


In the Shadows

by MyLifeIsForfeit



Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Fantasy, Bradford, Dalitrise, Elysium, F/M, Fantasy World, First Kiss, First Time, Forbidden Love, Kinda, Kings & Queens, M/M, Original Character(s), Princes & Princesses, Slow Burn, Smut, Velia, Wolvecaster, cheshire - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-02
Updated: 2020-04-03
Packaged: 2021-02-28 20:07:28
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 101
Words: 202,919
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23452978
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MyLifeIsForfeit/pseuds/MyLifeIsForfeit
Summary: ~Life's not fair when love could start a war~A timeless tale of forbidden love emerges in the 1650s. And their love not only affects them, but the future of their warring nations. How is there time for love when the fate of a country rests in one's hands?Kalysta is the Princess of Elysium, trained in politics and burdened to save her country from the greed of a rival King. So what good could come of falling in love with Ambassador Zayn, her enemy's son?Is love worth the risk?When the heart stirsDuty falls away.Eternal night failsIn the light of a new day.Ramifications are reapedFrom actions sown.Is love better soughtOr left alone?WARNING (and only warning):This is a mature story with: discussions of sex, rape, and misogyny; mild swearing; political intricacies; and other adult themes. If any of this bothers you, I suggest not reading. It is meant for 18+. Thank you for your understanding!Started June 2014, finished November 2016, published first on Wattpad. I am its original author, posted here with my own consent
Relationships: Louis Tomlinson/Original Female Character(s), Niall Horan/Original Female Character(s), Tom Hardy/Original Male Character(s), Zayn Malik/Original Female Character(s)
Kudos: 4





	1. Imminent War

**Author's Note:**

> Map for this series can be found at https://www.pinterest.com/pin/370984088057636263/

February 15th, 1651

"My child, I've received news!" King Jonathan said, rushing into her sitting room, a paper crumpled in his hand. "Ambassador Zayn of Mullingar arrives soon to begin the negotiations! King Murdoch is making his move. He wants our Elysium for his own and it's going to take all your skills and mine to keep it out of his hands completely. I'm not even sure how we'll do that."

"It's just like those pompous Mullingan royals to interrupt my birthday party with their greed," Kalysta scoffed, poking a hairpin back into place. Her maid was still putting the finishing touches on her appearance. It wasn't every year that she turned eighteen.

"I know you're still getting ready; I'm sorry for interrupting." His agitation was contagious, though. He wrung his hands and paced a line near the door.

"I'd tell you not to worry, Papa, but that's like telling the sun not to shine," she sighed. "Do try not to, though. We knew this time would come. Honestly, I'm surprised they've waited this long. There are still options we can consider."

"Tell me one of those options doesn't involve marrying Niall," her father grimaced. "I would give up much in Elysium before I allowed your marriage to that monster in the guise of a Prince."

"I'll do what's necessary," she said, turning to look at him fully, "as you have done, always for the good of the people." As she looked at him, he gave a sheepish grin and some of the agitation left his body. She turned back to her mirror. "I still think it would be good to speak with King Naseer of Bradford. He's been a good friend to you and he'd have good insight since he's been under Murdoch's leadership for so long."

He was silent.

"Now in concern to this ambassador," she continued, wincing as one of the hairpins pinched her scalp. "Do be careful, Delia," she said to the woman getting her ready.

"I'm trying," the woman whispered back. "If you'd keep your hair in better shape between parties then it wouldn't be so difficult when the time came to arrange it!"

Kalysta rolled her eyes. "Papa, have we learned anything more about the Ambassador? He can't have been involved in many treaties. Dalitrise has been quiet these days. Do we have any idea how he operates? Is he fair? Persuadable? What are we looking at?"

"His personal life is an open book as far as my knowledge runs," her father supplied, jumping in quickly. "King Murdoch's bastard son with a Bradian woman, acknowledged unlike some other bastards I've heard of, older than Crown Prince Niall. As far as politics, he is said to be the most just out of the family. Perhaps Murdoch's madness skipped him. He's still considered cutthroat, completely devoted to Mullingar. He does not claim Bradford as home; all is given to Mullingar in that regard."

"How is his relationship with his half-brother?"

"Prince Niall and the ambassador are close in the public eye," her father answered, "but behind closed doors could be entirely different. I'm not confident in the information the spies have passed along lately. King Murdoch is suspicious by nature and I think he's passing various incorrect stories out in an attempt to discover subterfuge."

"So we're going into this blind?" she sighed. "We have no idea how zealously he'll treat the situation?"

"I guess mostly blind," he winced. "We know these little details and we will learn much more once we have him under our roof. With our servants listening in, we can really get a grasp of his habits and weaknesses."

"I suppose we'll have to work with it; we don't have another option," Kalysta sighed.

"Dear, we'll take care of that a bit later," he conceded, stepping over to rest a hand on her shoulder. "I don't intend to let this ruin your birthday today. I shouldn't have brought it up."

"No, I'm glad you did," she pressed. "I'll have more birthdays. The country comes before such frivolity."

He gave her a pained look. "You've grown up too quickly, in my opinion. It's the one part of your education that I regret. You've long felt the weight of this nation before you even became an adult. I wish I would have allowed you more time to be a child."

Kalysta patted his hand where it rested on her shoulder. "I don't regret the way you raised me. I am to be the heir and that is what an heir to the throne must do."

"Ah, but I am sorry nevertheless."

"Don't be." She rose from her chair and turned to face him again. "I feel no ill will toward you or mother for the way I was raised." She leaned in to kiss his cheek. "I love this country as you do and I will do all I can to accomplish its endurance for centuries to come. We cannot risk a war with Mullingar and Bradford so we will do our best to help our people."

He smiled gently. "You look lovely, my child. Is she ready?" he asked Delia.

"I think she looks suitable enough," the maid replied with a soft smile.

"Very good! We're off then! Royal Banquet, here we come!"


	2. Early Arrival

Her birthday party was the event of the year, throwing all other parties to shame. Any who could claim import were there and every noble in the country was dying of impatience the weeks before, hoping for an invitation. Young women made their societal debuts at the annual Heir's party and they all wanted to make a splash on their first nights. With

Though this party was Kalysta's debut as well, as her eighteenth birthday, she couldn't bring herself to care as much as she should have. How could she pay attention to suitors with tensions so high between the nations? Her father hadn't spoken in jest about her growing up quickly. His present to her on her sixteenth birthday had been to let her begin making the ruling decisions for country. She hadn't taken it lightly.

She sat at the head table to the left of her father and mother as people made a procession, leaving gifts at the table and expressing their supposed happiness and well-wishes for her future. She tried to accept the gifts graciously, though they were gifts of things she already possessed in plenty, jewelry, expensive clothes, baubles, and novelty toys.

"Thank you, Lord and Lady Deplat, for your gracious gift to the crown," she expressed. "Your loyalty and kindness will not be forgotten." It was a rote passage, always said during the receiving of gifts by a royal party.

"Long life and peace upon you, your Highness."

The next couple stepped up to give their gifts and present their debuting daughter, but they were interrupted.

A commotion began near the main doors as an unfamiliar man strode in accompanied by a retinue. Kalysta knew who this was immediately. They'd told her father the Ambassador would arrive "soon" and apparently that meant today... of all days.

Her father's palace executor scurried in a hairsbreadth after the Ambassador and got ahead, making his way up to the Royal table to whisper what should have been announced prior to the Ambassador's entry.

"Your Royal Majesties, my utmost apologies," he said. "The Ambassador of Mullingar has arrived early and has insisted upon joining the festivities. He professes to have a gift for the Princess's birthday as well. He would not take no for an answer."

Kalysta looked at the Ambassador suspiciously. What kind of Ambassador flouted proper etiquette and barged into a party unannounced? The man had stopped halfway through the hall as if waiting on how he'd be received. His face was haughty and his chin ever so slightly raised.

"My men said a fortnight!" her father hissed under his breath. "No matter. Thank you, Andrew."

King Jonathan stood, bringing all attention to him and effectively silencing the confused whispers filling the hall.

"Ambassador Zayn, your presence here is welcomed!" he announced broadly. "Please join us at the king's table. We look forward to opening negotiations between our nations!"

"Many thanks, your Majesty," the Ambassador called, bowing at the waist from where he stood. He waved away his followers to take places near the main doors and then began making his way up to the table. The rest of the people in the room began their frantic whispering again.

"Franklin," her father said quickly to the side. "I think it's about time you were off to your studies, hmm?"

"Yes, Pa-pa," her younger brother said, rising from his place next to her. "I go, but I know you're just trying to be rid of me. You always make me leave when there are interesting people to meet."

"Nonsense," her father huffed. "It's late is all. You can have extra dessert if you'd like."

The boy simply pouted and nodded before making his way down from the raised platform and through the guests to a side door to exit, his minder following close after.

Kalysta's attention returned to the ambassador, who moved toward Franklin's empty seat.

Kalysta's attention returned to the ambassador, who moved toward Franklin's empty seat  
They all three rose to greet him.

"Your Majesties, your Highness," he said bowing, addressing her parents and then her, "it is my pleasure to be here to begin diplomatic discussion on behalf of Mullingar."

His voice lilted and his accent was gripping. As she glanced around, she noticed that the women in the room were looking at the newcomer aghast. Here in this country, where pale and flawless skin were considered attractive and elite, his nationality and sun-darkened skin made him an oddity and therefore an unfortunate eyesore. This only piqued the Kalysta's interest in the man.

During her perusal, her father moved from the table, bowing slightly in return and offering his hand, a symbol of peace. The ambassador accepted the gesture, locking forearms with King Jonathan and thereby displaying his desire to come to a amicable agreement between both nations. Next he bowed to her mother, taking the Queen's hand gently and placing a chaste kiss upon it.

Finally, he turned to Kalysta, bowing once more. When she met his eyes, she was struck by the intelligence and depth they held. Since he'd been promoted so high and so quickly, she'd hoped he would be easy to confound in political dealings, but her hopes were dashed when she saw the way he took in everything around him in such a discerning manner.

She offered her hand and he lifted it firmly, bending at the waist to press his warm lips against the spot where it met her wrist. His eyes never left hers and the sparkling brown depths, with their amber streaks and gold flecks, held her attention like her studies had never been able to do.

Oh, this was going to be interesting.


	3. Birthday Sparring

Ambassador Zayn seated himself in Franklin's now-vacant chair as servants began clearing away the presents that had compiled and replacing them with plates and eating utensils. Kalysta supposed that the rest of her gifts would be accepted without her.

"We were informed that you would be arriving later this month, ambassador," her father stated conversationally, draping his napkin across his lap. "Did your travels go better than expected?"

"My dealings with King Thomas and Velia took less time than previously planned," the man supplied. "I was also eager to get here and begin our diplomatic sparring."

"You think the negotiations will turn into sparring?" her father said carefully. She could hear the edge in his voice, but he did not look at the Ambassador since the servants had begun placing the food in front of them.

"My father wants your country, and you don't want to give it up," the ambassador replied crassly. "I think it's safe to assume that this will turn into verbal contention at some point."

Her father's sharp inhale warned her to step in.

"Gentlemen," she hissed quietly, leaning forward to bring the ambassador in view, "this may not seem like an important detail, but this is a birthday party, mine in fact, and political matters should be set aside. We're here to celebrate, not argue, particularly not in front of the general populace. I suggest we remain cordial in the public sphere and start the, what was it?" She paused. "Oh yes, start the 'sparring' when we are in a more appropriate setting."

She leaned back as a servant sliced a portion of roast pork onto her plate and another drizzled over it with trimmings.

"Are all women allowed to speak their mind like this here?" the ambassador asked, his voice conversational and light, despite the effrontery if his words. "Where I am from a woman speaks when spoken to. And she doesn't deign to advise men."

"Well, this isn't where you come from," her mother, Queen Fayette, replied sharply. "We are all equal here. You may berate and belittle your mothers and daughters and sisters and aunts in Mullingar, but not here. You'll respect us as you respect our men."

"Just one of the many... differences that can be discussed in our negotiations," the ambassador replied evenly, gently cutting the food in front of him.

"And that discussion will be later, after we've had pleasant, non-politically charged table conversation," Kalysta said forcefully.

The ambassador chuckled. "Very well then, since we're not discussing politics, how have your lands fared with the increase of banditry seen along the borders? I can't imagine the 'general populace' has been very pleased with that."

"Trade has increased dramatically over the last few years, so crime can be expected to follow it. More trade goods mean more profit and there are always people looking to make a profit they haven't earned." She looked at him to see his response to this, and was displeased to see a smirk cross his face before he schooled it into a look of apathy.

"Yes, I'm sure that's all that's happening." The ambassador's voice still displayed his amusement, even if his face didn't.

Her father coughed. "We've taken the banditry in hand."

"I only ask because I know it has to have been hard for Elysium these recent years, unable to build a standing military." The ambassador's voice was irritatingly offhand.

"Perhaps you're deaf, Ambassador," Kalysta snapped. "Our military standing would fall under political discussion. Or perhaps you're incapable of following simple instruction?"

"Kalysta!" her mother spouted, horrorstruck.

"No, Your Highness, that's quite alright," the ambassador chuckled. "Children tend to speak their mind at times without a thought to the consequences. I take no offense."

She rolled her eyes. By Mullingar's standards, she technically was still a child, adulthood there was considered to begin at twenty years of age. It didn't matter though. She'd show him that, woman or child, she would keep up with his every asinine comment, his every attempt to undermine her confidence.

"Oh, that's adorable," she simpered. "Clearly being an adult doesn't help you know how to speak properly, my Lord Ambassador. You're two years into your adulthood and still talking out of your ass."

The ambassador choked on his wine for a second.

"I do believe that you have things to be about, Kalysta?" her father spoke up next, attempting to head her off before her temper really came into play.

"Yes, I believe so as well," she growled, pushing her chair back and standing. This ambassador, while captivating at first, made her want to pull her hair out. "I will be available to meet in the council chambers at half past seven, father. Mother, I look forward to our work later tonight. Enjoy the rest of your meal, Ambassador, and do try not to choke to death on your wine." This last line was conveyed as scathingly as possible before she made her way down from the dais and out of the dining hall. She'd pay for it later, but oh, it felt good right now... That stupid prick had another thing coming if he thought she was a child to be dismissed so easily... another thing coming indeed.


	4. That Bloody Stub

She went immediately to her room. Delia was there to meet her.

"Milady," Delia said worriedly, "you're dancing with fire, instigating such exchanges with Ambassador Zayn!"

"What would you have me do, Delia?" the Princess countered, working to remove the pins in her hair. Delia moved to help. "He has taken every opportunity to belittle me and treat me as a spoiled child!"

"As far as he knows, that's what you are! He cannot know the level of responsibility you've been given; your father has kept that secret well." Delia's worry was making her harsh in removing the pins, but Kalysta was too irritated to care.

"Even if I were a spoiled child that doesn't give him the bloody right to insult a Princess on her birthday! Mullingar holds the greater army, but having the upper hand militarily does not give him the right to look down his nose at us. If I have to beat that concept into the bloody stub of a man, I will."

"Language, milady!"

"Oh, Delia, language is the least of anyone's worries right now," Kalysta pointed out. "We're facing war with two of the largest nations in Dalitrise and there is no simple way to prevent it. We'll be posturing and negotiating and it still might end in war. I will be with my father and do my best, but I don't see a chance of surviving if it comes to that. We might survive if King Murdoch allows us to become a country-state to Mullingar, much as Bradford has, but then I'd be forced to marry that dreadful Prince Niall and I don't know if I could ever stomach that. I don't know if I could marry a man I despise that much."

"Oh child," Delia whispered. "You have never entertained notions of marrying for love; why would you start now?"

"I still hold no such notions, Delia," she clarified, "but there's a difference between not marrying for love and marrying the devil's son."

"He can't be that bad!"

"Have you not seen him, Delia? Surely you've heard of him at least."

"Not that I remember."

"He's got pale skin, dark hair he changes to light, and blue eyes that are like the coldest glacier of the north."

"That doesn't sound so bad!" Delia pointed out. "He'd fit in right well here!"

"Let me finish," the Princess said. "He's notorious for his poor treatment of women, just like his father. He has no mind for propriety. Women who end up with child by him are executed because he doesn't want bastard children older than a proper heir. I surmise this has to do with a secret hatred for his brother the ambassador, but I've seen no proof to back it up. And what's worse, King Murdoch is allowing him more and more free rein. It's been terrible for their country. The prince instituted the taxes that have impoverished the lower classes and made the nobles even wealthier. He's widened the gap so much that there is simply the rich and the homeless. I despise what he's done to his country and it's only getting worse. I'd die and take Prince Niall with me before I let that happen to Elysium."

"Quiet, milady!" Delia shushed. "There are ears willing to listen everywhere!"

"I know," the Princess sighed, "and I don't know who to trust anymore. I'm so glad I have you at least."

"Ach," Delia scoffed, "I'm nothing but your maid."

"You haven't been that for many years," Kalysta countered. "You practically raised me. Mother was at her wit's end with me before Franklin came along."

"It didn't help that you constantly ran into the city when you were supposed to be in lessons, now did it?"

"I turned out alright, did I not?"

"That you did, milady that you did," Delia said fondly.

"Could you help arrange my hair for the council chambers tonight?" the Princess asked. "I want something simple that will help me look mature. I won't let Ambassador Zayn attempt a slight at my age again."

"Perhaps we should put some padding in that bosom of yours, then? That's all that stops any man from viewing someone as a child."

"Delia!"

"What?!" the older woman exclaimed.

"I'd expect that from Mother, not from you!" Kalysta gasped.

"Well, we're both right," Delia said.

"We're trying to provide the greatest help for Elysium and that's not going to be done by distracting men with our bosoms, Delia!"

"It's worked before, countless times!"

"Regardless," she sniffed, "that's not an operation I will participate in or even condone. What cannot be won through rational debate and verbal sparring is not worth winning."

"And to think I raised you," Delia sighed in mock sadness. She pulled Kalysta's hair up and twisted it into a simple, but elegant bun on her head.

"That is excellent, friend," Kalysta said happily. "It's regal and commanding in its own way."

"What will you wear, milady?"

"You'd have a better idea than I as to what would be appropriate."

"I had a notion you'd say that. I've put something out for you."

"Many thanks."


	5. In the Council Chambers

At exactly 7:30, Kalysta entered the council chamber to find that everyone was already seated.

"All companies are present," her father said, as was tradition, "and the proceedings may begin. Princess, you have the floor."

The ambassador looked extremely surprised by this, but he masked it a second later, putting that apathetic blank face back on.

Kalysta walked to her seat, but did not take it, simply standing. For a moment she let the awkward silence fill the room as she glanced at each person there. She sensed her father's amusement beside her, as if he knew of her effort to make the representatives of Mullingar uncomfortable.

It was working. The ambassador's consults didn't shift with nervousness, but their eyes darted around with trepidation as if waiting for assassins to leap from the shadows. Their leader did not join them in fear.

Ambassador Zayn sat quietly, his arms crossed against his chest. He held her eyes when they landed on him and he narrowed his in confusion and some suspicion.

"Representatives," she began finally, "we are gathered here to discuss the differences between our two great nations. We will all make efforts to be rational and respectful regardless of gender. Hold to this and may we come to a resolution of merit. Ambassador Zayn, you have the floor. Express your suit."

The ambassador stood as Kalysta took her seat. However, defying the edicts of royalty, he failed to acknowledge her introduction, thereby showing he did not respect her authority in this meeting. He simply began.

"I come on behalf of Murdoch, King of Mullingar, Ruling Lord of the state of Bradford, and highest among the leaders of Dalitrise." He was off to a bad start. Not only had he failed to acknowledge her, but he slighted every other ruler in Dalitrise in his backhanded way. "It has come to his attention that the decline in Elysium has reached a dangerous level," he continued.

Decline? What the hell? Kalysta thought.

"Although our two nations have never completely agreed, we have held cordial trade for countless years. However," he said, his voice growing louder, "with the disturbing news of deteriorating morals, Mullingar must question what danger we all face if we do not intervene. Time and time again you have scorned traditions upheld in Dalitrise for centuries.

"We granted you leniency, made excuses, until Princess Kalysta was named heir to the throne of Elysium. Never before has a woman been named heir and with good reason! Women are not to be trusted with rule! This rejection of necessary tradition should have warned us which direction you were headed, but still we tried to see past it."

Kalysta was gobstruck. She knew the idiocy they believed in Mullingar, but hearing it from this swine's mouth was something else entirely. He stood there spouting his disgusting venom as if Mullingar's putrid way of life was ordained by the gods.

"The second strike," the ambassador continued, "was noted when you decreased trade restrictions and removed extradition agreements with the other nations. With all of the traffic coming in and out of Elysium, your country is a den of criminals. You have encouraged people to trade and indeed settle here, but your invitation disguised the fact that you offer asylum for the lawbreakers of your fellow nations. Asylum and no extradition to pay for crimes committed? Another strike against you."

"The third and most recently noted problem in the eyes of the other nations was the apparent disintegration of your class system here. The classes have been established for a reason. Nobles rule and protect, the lower classes serve and thrive. That's the way it has always been. In recent years you have seen fit to go against generations of prosperous existence! Another tradition, thrown out in favor of what can only hurt us all in the long run!

"All of these issues compiled point to the startling fact that your line, King Jonathan, is no longer fit to rule this land. No one is more saddened to hear this than King Murdoch, but there are other lands across the sea! We all know the rumors of Ubia. If they see a decline in Dalitrise, they will make an attempt to take it and gain a foothold here. Do you not see the situation you have placed the other rulers in, oh King? You have left no choice but to have other leadership present itself and if necessary, enforce the laws that are essential for the whole of Dalitrise to thrive. If your current policies were to be changed, perhaps an agreement could be reached. Thank you, King Jonathan, for your ear, and thank you other representatives for being here today."

Kalysta noticed that he looked at every single representative in the room as he said this; except at her and the other women. His glance simply glided past them as if they didn't exist.

She was furious. Her mask of indifference and control almost slipped as she thought of how idiotic his complaints sounded. All the nations knew that Murdoch simply wanted the whole of the Dalitrise for himself, and "the decline" of Elysium gave him an excuse –albeit a poor one- to take over her less militarily-enforced nation.

Never before had the other nations had any interference in another's ruling standards and it was so obvious why Mullingar was involved now. It was simply ridiculous and Kalysta had a hard time not registering this on her face. Nothing would be accomplished by starting a war with Mullingar when they were so close already and Elysium had no chance of winning.

Tamping down her anger, Kalysta nodded briefly to her father, giving him the floor and returning authority to him in this case. He gave her a look as if to say 'Are you sure?' She nodded. The ambassador and his representatives weren't going to listen to a word she had to say. It was better coming from her father, and he realized this, as he stood to give his statement.

"Many thanks, Ambassador Zayn, for your insight into how this problem began and what King Murdoch's view of the situation is," her father said graciously. "I can say at this moment that the country of Elysium has done its best to uphold the traditions placed over the years. That being said, there are those traditions that must be placed aside in order for progress to be made. With this in mind, and with both parties having expressed themselves for the moment, I suggest a leave be taken of this meeting for two days while we consider what the opposing party has placed before us. Thank you, representatives, for your time here today and again, may the gods grant us a compromise benefitting both nations and Dalitrise as a whole."

They all stood, bowing as one and then filtering out. The ambassador was the last to leave, pausing and glancing back at Kalysta and her father, who remained at the table.

His eyes were thoughtful, but Kalysta had no patience for him at the moment. She sat up straight and stared him down, letting every ounce of her loathing reflect on her face. His only reaction was to smirk before he too left, closing the door of the council chambers behind him.

"Well, that went well," her father sighed, taking his seat again next to her.

"One moment, Pa-pa," she whispered, rising and going to the door. She opened it, taking a look out to ensure that no one had lingered, before closing it securely and returning to the table.

"We must be exceptionally careful," she said quietly, "now more than ever before."

"I agree, dearest," her father replied. "I knew that Murdoch wasn't happy with our state of affairs, and I know of his greed, but how on earth is he going to get away with this farce? I simply cannot believe that the other nations will allow this. Cheshire might; they have no interest in politics or anything along those lines, but Velia and Wolvecaster? Surely they see through his schemes?!"

"Father," Kalysta said sadly, "you forget how it is for them. They're smaller countries with even less political sway than we have. What on earth are they going to accomplish by opposing Mullingar besides a swift defeat and possible occupation? Besides," she added, some of her humor returning, "he's right about the asylum. We haven't encouraged it, but harboring fugitives of Murdoch's arbitrary anger and punishment isn't something I feel sorry for."

He gave her a small smile. "You're right as always, my dear," he said. "My emotions get a little ahead of me. That's been my greatest fault. I am so proud that you haven't followed in my footsteps."

"Don't say such things about yourself," Kalysta admonished. "You ruled well."

"However I ruled, I am glad it is in your hands now," he continued. "No matter what the ambassador thinks of your capabilities or perceived gender deficits, we both know that you'll benefit this world more than he ever will."

"With an ego and stubborn ignorance like his, that's not much of a compliment," she laughed. "Most everyone will do better for the world than he could ever dream of."


	6. Pips and Pints

The sun had set for that evening and everyone was turning in to their houses and quarters to prepare for bed... except Kalysta. This was prime time for the kind of work that needed to be done. On a Friday night with newcomers to the city, the taverns would be full of gossip and some of it would be worth listening in on.

"Delia, I'm going out tonight," the Princess said as she applied her heavy makeup for the role she would play tonight.

"Oh, come, milady you need your sleep tonight!"

"No," Kalysta refuted. "I need to gather information and you know what that takes; a little risk. There are newcomers in town and they always let their tongues betray their intents and political standing when they've had too much to drink."

"Very well," Delia sighed. "Send Bill my love."

"Tell him yourself," the Princess said. "You get the night off. Go see your love."

"I am 40 years old, milady," Delia admonished. "I can't shirk my duties simply to go be with my gentleman friend."

"Send him your love, but he's just your "friend"?" the Princess teased. "No matter the duties, take the night off! You deserve some time off for yourself and if I have to hear William complain another night to me about not seeing you often enough then I will personally shackle you to his bed for a weekend!"

Delia narrowed her eyes.

"I mention bosoms and you blush, but then you talk of shackles in a bedroom," she tsked. "I don't know what to think of you, milady."

"Then don't try," the Princess laughed. "Just go see William. You will need to arrive before me, so make it quick.

"Besides," she continued, "I only blush when you talk about my bosom. That doesn't mean I'm not fully aware of certain matters."

Delia huffed.

"Do you want help with your makeup?" she asked a moment later.

"Yes," Kalysta said eagerly. "I always need your help with that, but I need it tonight especially. I cannot risk any of the Bradians recognizing me in the common room."

"They wouldn't believe their own eyes if the resemblance occurred to them," Delia assured her. "Or they'd just think an unacknowledged bastard of your father was their server."

Kalysta shook her head in exasperation.

"Just make sure no suspicions come to their mind, please," she ordered.

"None will, not with the wig and the rouge on your cheeks. Not even the worst princess would allow herself to be seen with rouge and color on her lids... or so they assume."

"I feel like there's an insult in there somewhere," Kalysta teased.

"I'm just reminding you of their point of view, milady," Delia answered. "Rouge doesn't make a prostitute or common room wench. It's the attitude. We know that you know that in particular."

"Yes, I do," Kalysta sighed.

. . . . . . . . . . . 

The blonde hair of her wig had already begun to itch as she stepped carefully out of the south gate. She was glad for the secret passages in the castle. Her parents and a few more trusted servants knew of them, but not many were privy to the information, so the Princess used this escape every time she went to gather information at the local inn in town. Everything would be ruined if people found out who Lyra the barmaid really was.

She hurried into town, arriving in time for the start of prime drinking at the end of the long week. Many figures were making their way to Pips and Pints, the best and most popular inn for gambling and drinking in the city, as indicated in the name. No one gave her any heed, which was something she enjoyed as a part of being "Lyra". She had created the character to help with intelligence gathering and it had proven very useful. Of course, William, the innkeeper, knew her true identity, but he always gave her a place among his serving women and kept his silence. His relationship with her maid helped with the situation, but that was beside the point.

Upon entering, she saw that the Bradian and Mullingan newcomers were a prominent portion of the people drinking and being rowdy. She also noticed that the ambassador sat at a corner table with his group. William was nowhere to be seen, already making up for lost time with Delia, most likely. Elaine was in charge while William was otherwise disposed, which bothered Kalysta to no end.

"Well, well, the prodigal wench returns," Elaine said cuttingly after giving Kalysta a sneer as soon as she saw her. "Bill said you'd be back; why he still allows you in here I'll never know." She threw an apron across the counter at Kalysta. "You're serving the foreigners; I hear they've been free with their hands and affections, if you know what I mean. I'm sure you'll have a good time tonight."

Kalysta rolled her eyes. Sometimes she wished she could expose her true identity and watch this pompous charlatan grovel in penance. However, there was a time and place for everything and revealing her identity now would do untold damage, accomplishing nothing save the easement her pride. She could endure this, for the good of the people, because her presence allowed for untold information-gathering that cut out the middle-man and saved her from hiring spies.

She tied the apron around her middle and went toward the table in the corner, occupied by a now brooding ambassador and his men.

"Evening, gentlemen, my name is Lyra," she said in a false cheery voice, looking around at the group. "If there's anything you need help with tonight, just let me know and I'll see what I can do to be of assistance."

"Lyra," one man, a Mullingan by his complexion, leered at her, "I have something I need help with. I lost a... certain... possession of mine in my room. Seems maybe a woman's look might help." One of the other men chuckled under his breath while the ambassador remained stoic, his face impassive.

Well, they were off to an auspicious start.

"Sir," she said sharply, "if you're asking me to accompany me to your room, I suggest you ask outright instead of being shady and blundering about in such a foolish fashion. The answer is no, either way, and I request that you keep such comments toward me to yourself for the rest of the night."

The man looked stunned for a moment, but anger surfaced.

"You dirty hussy," he hissed, snatching her wrist to hold in his hand like a vice. "You have no call acting like you're better than us. I'll teach you how to speak to your betters before the night is out."

For the first time ever, Kalysta felt real fear, wondering what this man was capable of in the wrong circumstances.

"Have a care, Hayden," the ambassador spoke sharply from his corner. Immediately, the attention of the entire table was on him and Hayden released her a second later. "We are in a different land and we must respect their ways of living if we are to reach a mutual understand between our nations." Kalysta almost laughed. Hadn't he been the one complaining about her speaking out of turn? What a hypocrite.

"Here in Elysium," the ambassador continued, "the serving women do not necessarily double as the night's... entertainment. They are provided the right to refuse and I happen to know that our host will enforce such courtesy with his wait staff."

The man, Hayden, looked angry to say the least.

"Move away from us, miss," the ambassador commanded calmly. "I don't want further provocation of my men and Master William has kept our glasses full. We are about to turn in."

In one move he had accused her of encouraging the men while establishing that he didn't want to be waited on by a woman without other things to offer. Never had Kalysta met such appalling behavior. She was disgusted, and let it show on her face.

"Ambassador," she said through gritted teeth, "perhaps you should put leads on your men if they act on such animal instincts so quickly."

She turned back to the man, Hayden. Pulling a small knife from a hidden pocket in her sash, she prodded it into his stomach with enough force for him to pull back sharply.

"As for you," she said quietly, "you will not bother any of the other women in this establishment with your deplorable behavior and crude intentions. If I hear about anything of the sort I will personally remove your manhood with this."

She gave him an extra jab to drive home the point before she breezed away.

Elaine was giving Kalysta a hard look, as if she knew something was amiss, but no voices had been raised, so there was no way she could punish Kalysta for something.

For the rest of the night, Kalysta worked the other tables, pouring beer as glasses were raised in the air and marking down on people's tabs.

However, she couldn't help but notice that as the group of Bradians and Mullingans dwindled, the ambassador stayed at his spot in the corner. She sometimes caught him watching her through hooded eyes and again she felt the captivating moment she'd experienced in the dining hall as an unreadable expression crossed his face. When she caught him looking, he would simply nod respectfully and turn his attention elsewhere.

Most of the common room had emptied but for a few of the regular sots that had passed out in various chairs around the room. The ambassador was still present too, not drunken, but aware and still simply watching her as she worked to serve those who would actually accept inn service from a woman.

This continued until Kalysta eventually just stopped what she was doing and stared back. The ambassador looked surprised at first, but a smile lit his face once he realized she wasn't going to look away. It was a lovely smile and Kalysta was unhappy to note how much more attractive it made him. His eyes crinkled at the corners and brightened. He continued to smile as he beckoned her over to his table where he sat alone now.

"I thought you didn't want a lowly woman serving you Ambassador," Kalysta said sarcastically.

"Oh, it's fine," he said. "I really must get used to your customs since I'll be traveling here often."

"Not too often, I hope," Kalysta muttered, too low for him to hear, as she cleared the table of the empty beer glasses. He stood and began to help, placing glasses on her tray.

"Excuse me, what are you doing?" she asked sharply.

"Helping," he said, smiling even wider, somehow, exposing his immaculate teeth. "I thought that would be obvious."

"Well, why don't you leave that to this dirty hussy to finish?" she replied scathingly.

He looked like he'd been slapped.

"We made you that angry?" he asked.

"Ambassador, I can handle being called names, I can handle vulgar suggestions. I deal with those every day, from every man who comes through here practically. That being said, I detest how you've professed to be interested in learning our customs, but you treat me-a fellow human being-like refuse while in front of your men, only to try helping when they're gone. Perhaps you truly wish to adjust, but being two-faced isn't the way to do it. It doesn't mean you're adaptive; it means you're a pompous, contradicting ass no matter the country you're in."

Having said her piece, she heaved the loaded tray up and began walking toward the kitchens, not even bothering to care what the ambassador thought of what she said. Technically, as a serving maid, she was not allowed to speak to royalty-even illegitimate- in such a manner, but he didn't seem to know that. For an ambassador, he seemed remarkably ignorant, or apathetic, to many of the customs and laws. But he needed to know exactly how he should behave.

When she returned to the common room, it was blessedly empty. The ambassador had gone, probably back to the castle for the remainder of the night hours. It was half past two in the morning and she needed to return to the castle and get some sleep. Tomorrow was another day.

"Elaine, I need to go," she called, removing her apron.

"As you must," Elaine said, waving her hands exasperatedly. "If Bill wasn't sticking up for you, I'd send you out on your fanny."

"Whatever you say."


	7. Payment From His Hide

The next morning, Kalysta woke later than usual.

"Good morning, milady," Delia greeted her, puttering around the room and arranging things that were already in their place.

"For the sake of the gods, Delia, why are you here so early?" Kalysta groaned.

"I have duties to see to, remember?"

"Did you come straight from William's?"

"I don't see why I should discuss that with you!" Delia scoffed, outraged.

Kalysta laughed.

"How was the information gathering for the evening?" Delia asked, an easily apparent attempt to change the subject. It worked, however.

"It was completely useless!" Kalysta exclaimed. "That ambassador must have a tight rein on his men's tongues in regards to political matters if not in matters of decency. It was absolutely awful! I spent another evening getting propositioned and I received even further-and very unnecessary- evidence of how absolutely asinine the ambassador is! He has to be the most corrupted, impudent, and selfish man that I have ever met!"

"Well, you must have made an impression on him anyway," Delia remarked.

"Whatever do you mean?" Kalysta asked, sitting up quickly in bed.

"He asked Bill about you this morning. He asked about 'Lyra' at least."

"No!" Kalysta gasped. "I called him a pompous ass! What would he want except to have me arrested?"

"You called him an ass? What on earth did you do that for? You know you could be severely punished for saying that to a royal. Well, Lyra could."

"Yes, but he doesn't seem to know that."

"Pray he doesn't find out."

"Besides, he was being an ass," Kalysta said, grumbling. "And they'll have a hard time finding 'Lyra' to arrest her."

"Regardless, Bill said he seemed very curious as to your whereabouts and when you would be working next."

"I'll just not go back, then."

"You're going to lose your best information source because of him?" Delia asked, surprised.

"It's better than risking getting arrested in my own kingdom!"

"Don't be so dramatic. That wouldn't happen. Bill said he was very cordial about it, saying that he simply wanted to talk to you further on a subject you had broached the night before."

"I'm meeting with father today to discuss our options before the representatives return to meet tomorrow," Kalysta said, taking her turn to change the subject. "Would you like today off as well?"

"Milady, I'm not getting paid for days off," Delia reprimanded.

"Ha!" Kalysta laughed. "You're not getting paid regardless of whether you work!"

Delia sniffed and acted wounded. "You always know how to hurt a lady."

Kalysta laughed again as Delia walked toward the door.

"It may hurt, but you're still going to take that day off, aren't you?" Kalysta pointed out.

"You assume correctly," Delia said behind her as she walked out. "Send Ezra to fetch me if something arises."

"And where will you be exactly?" Kalysta called teasingly.

"You know very well where I'll be," Delia snapped before shutting the door behind her.

"That's no way to talk to a Princess!" Kalysta shouted, chuckling when Delia ignored her.

. . . . . . . .

"Father, I see no way out of this!" Kalysta said. "You heard the Ambassador! We're running out of options! Marriage to Prince Niall ensures them a foothold here, to their benefit, and prevents a full-out war and occupation, which is to our benefit. Niall will be king, but you know I'm no pushover. Once he's here I'll either hen-peck him or have him assassinated." They were still arguing over what was the best way to handle the situation with Mullingar while preventing a war.

"I don't want you married to that in-bred excuse for royalty," her father said with finality. "It's just that simple. We'll have to look for more options, and if none arise we'll use that as a last resort. And I do mean last."

"Alright, Father, I give you a week to think of a viable alternative," Kalysta said. "In the meantime, what do you have planned for our time with the representatives?"

"They aren't going to recognize your authority in the council chambers, unfortunately," he said thoughtfully, "so I doubt having you speak again will do anything for our benefit. What are you hoping to accomplish by these meetings?"

"I wanted to suss out just what has Murdoch hot under the collar, but it's clear he's only motivated by greed," Kalysta voiced. "Barring that, I was hoping some grand idea would come to me, but I really do think arranged marriage may be our only option. It would be perfect from their point of view, because then Niall could direct the policies here to reflect his father's whims... or so they think. But if we're waiting on a marriage treaty, then I don't see any reason for us all to meet again. It will just make me hate that dreadful ambassador more. Every time he opens his mouth I want to introduce his tongue to my knives."

"So lady-like."

"It's true!" she protested. "Are you not irritated by his smug way of looking down on us?"

"A bit," he acquiesced, "but not as much as you, apparently. Were you successful in gathering any information during your rounds last night?"

"That's one more aggravation to all of this! I didn't hear a word of anything more than what we are already privy to! None of the men spilled a thing, even when drunk! I don't know how they have them so tight-lipped. Money doesn't generally hold a sot's tongue."

"Loyalty, perhaps?" he offered.

"I guess I'll find that out," Kalysta sighed. "Is there any time that you could meet with just the ambassador when I don't have to be there?"

"I'm not sure. Why?"

"I don't want to return to William's if Ambassador Zayn going to be there."

"Perhaps if he's not there his men will be more forthcoming with information as well," her father said thoughtfully.

"Exactly!" Kalysta exclaimed.

"Very well, I will invite the ambassador to a private dinner this very evening to perhaps learn more of Murdoch's point of view while you listen to his men in his absence."

"It's a good plan."

"Alright," he said. "Are you ready to meet with our advisers?"

"I suppose," Kalysta groaned, "but you know we're going to hear it from Elisabeth about being ignored by the ambassador."

"Ah, yes, we will definitely be made aware of how unhappy she is at being ignored. Very zealous about equality, but... caustic sometimes."

"I wish there were a way to avoid it."

"Start your evening out early," he offered. "I'll take care of our advisors."

"I can't do that!" she protested. "What kind of heir would I be to skip out on a council meeting?"

"You have too much weighing on you right now as it is," her father said. "I'll take some of the burden by getting these tedious meetings out of your care."

"Very well, but I will listen to the petitions as you take counsel."

"So dutiful, child," he sighed.

"We do what is necessary."

. . . . . . . . . .

"Step forward, sir," she commanded.

She was in the throne room, seated on the lower throne to the left of her father's empty one. This was where petitions were held, where everyone, common and noble, could come to bring their problems before the crown. It had been established under her grandfather's rule.

Today's petitions had been the normal thing, disputes between neighbors and artisans and such. They often grew tedious when she had other matters on her mind, but she had to remember that the concerns of the people were the concerns of the ruler.

"What is your petition, sir?" she asked.

"My name is Stefan, your Grace," the man said. He was shorter with bright blonde hair and a deep tan, marking him as a fisherman from the west coasts. His hat had been taken off and was being wrung between his hands. It took Kalysta a moment to notice the skinny wisp of a girl that huddled behind him, trying and mostly succeeding to not be noticed.

"I come before you on- on behalf of my daughter, your Highness," he stammered. He pulled the girl from her position behind him. She looked to be about fifteen. She cowered under Kalysta's direct gaze.

"You are from the coast, are you not?" Kalysta said. "You are fishing people?"

"Yes."

"Very well, what has made you travel so far to petition the crown?"

"When the... guests, the foreigners, passed our way there was a lot of turmoil," the man began. "Despite knowing their arrival was soon, it was still difficult, as they do not follow the same laws as us.

"My- my daughter works at the pub in town, because fishing has been off lately," he continued. "She quit school to help us with money. Well, the ambassador's men... they, they don't... well, like I said, they don't follow the same-"

"Did the ambassador's men harm you, child?" Kalysta interrupted sharply.

The girl seemed to shrink into her father further, but not before Kalysta saw tears of shame slipping down her cheeks.

"She-she," he fathered stammered even more now. "She... came home with bruises and tears in her skin, clothing ripped and mostly gone. All she would say was that she had been walking home from work and... that she knew who they were by their accents." He choked at the end and looked down for a moment. "They won't take her back at the pub and she's destroyed. She's nothing like she used to be. Look, she is terrified of her own shadow and it was not always so. I-I just want justice for her. She deserves to know that such attacks won't be tolerated."

Kalysta felt the bile rise in her throat. This was utterly inexcusable. The ambassador would pay for this, if she had to take the payment from his own hide.

"Sir, I understand your concern," she said, her voice cold with anger. "She will be given justice. However, these things are not achieved instantaneously. We must find the culprits and hold a trial. Do you understand this?"

"I understand," he whispered.

"Child, what is your name?"

"Emily, your Grace," she gasped, seeming to have trouble speaking past her tears.

"When did this happen, Emily?"

"A week past," she answered, still refusing to look at Kalysta. "The bruises have just turned yellow on my skin."

"I have an idea, Emily."

The girl waited, still looking at the ground.

"I cannot immediately give you the justice you deserve, child. These things take time."

The girl nodded.

"Until such time, I offer you a position in my personal staff," Kalysta said.

The girl's head jerked up and her mouth opened in an "O".

"You will be paid and trained as my personal maid," Kalysta continued. "You will not be looked down on by me or anyone else in the castle for what has happened. In fact, no one else need know except those you choose to tell, which is entirely up to your discretion, at least until such time as a trial is plausible.

"Would this arrangement be agreeable? Your wages will be sent to your family and you will live and eat well in the King's house. Your presence will be a constant reminder as to what still needs to be brought to bear with Mullingar. Do you accept?"

The girl nodded, still shocked.

Her father burst into tears.

"Thank you, Princess," he gasped.

"You may say your goodbyes, Miss Emily," Kalysta said. "And Mr. Stefan, do not discuss any of what has transpired here until the trial. Simply say that you were able to procure your daughter a position in my staff."

"Y-Yes, your Grace!"

"You are dismissed, then. Emily will not need for anything while in my service. You may visit with your family when most convenient and she will be given a short leave from her duties at that time."

The man hugged the girl, whispered in her ear for a moment and then left.

"Matthew," Kalysta said to her guard, "would you call Ezra in here please?"

"Yes, Princess."


	8. Beginnings of Justice

"What have you called me back for, milady?" Delia asked. The three of them were in the Princess's room that evening, Kalysta, Delia, and the new maid, Emily 

"I have a new protégée for you to train, Delia," Kalysta answered, gesturing toward the young girl. "I would have you train her in the ways to best serve me. She is in your care."

"Is this why you've been giving me days off?" Delia asked, with only a little true concern. "You're going to replace me, hmm?"

"Of course not," Kalysta scoffed. "I would sooner give the Crown up than replace you without your consent."

"Then why on earth am I being given this waif to train?"

Kalysta saw the girl's back stiffen for a moment at the word "waif", but a second later she shrunk back into herself without voicing a word. It was interesting to Kalysta. The girl obviously had some sense of fighting spirit left after her ordeal. They would just need to encourage it.

"She's not a waif and you have no choice in the matter," Kalysta ordered.

"Have you ever been a maid or servant for anyone, girl?" Delia asked Emily sharply.

Here it was, the test as to whether or not the girl would let herself be ordered about and walked on by Delia.

The girl's head rose and her eyes flashed before she answered.

"My name is Emily, ma'am, not girl, or waif. And although I haven't served before I am a quick learner and I will not disappoint. Give me a chance and I will prove myself."

"Just swell, milady," Delia muttered. "Well, Emily-who-is-not-to-be-addressed-as-girl-or-waif, you will work long hours in service to the Royal Family, but it will be worth it if you dedicate yourself."

"Anything to repay the Princess," Emily said solemnly.

. . . . . . . . . 

Her father had been right about the men in the common room. Without the ambassador present, the men had turned into rowdy, drunken fools, spouting whatever came to their minds. 

Kalysta had arrived and they were already in full swing. To her surprise, they hadn't tried anything on the serving women so far that evening. She had thought the ambassador to be their only deterrent, but he had apparently warned them well. And although they weren't trying anything, they were definitely suggesting it, yelling loud, vulgar comments when the girls would refill their glasses. But it was several hours before anything of note happened.

The man who had attempted to hurt her the night before, Hayden, was obviously the ringleader when the ambassador was absent. He was the loudest and most free-tongued.

"I don't know what it is!" he called to Kalysta when she walked by their table. "Something about you blonde tarts make me feel twice the man! On the coast, inland, I'd like to sample all that Elysium has to offer! Whadya say? Will you be as stuck-up as those dock girls? Remember the one we had, James? She had that prude look about her too, just like this one!... lips all pinched. Gods, but she was a tasty piece, wasn't she?"

Kalysta pretended like she hadn't heard, simply walking past them and going to where William stood behind the bar, keeping a close eye over his establishment. On the inside, Kalysta was practically shaking with the fury that consumed her. She hadn't expected to find the perpetrators of Emily's attack so quickly, but fortune smiled down on her. Those men were going to pay. And they'd just made it easier too, having confessed their foul deeds in front of so many people.

"Is there something I can help you with, Lyra?" William asked as she approached.

"Yes," Kalysta breathed. "Tell the man Hayden that I wish to provide him private entertainment in a room, but when you bring him back, hold him. I have questions that need answering."

"As you command," William answered solemnly.

"I'll be in the first room down the left hall," she said.

"I'll bring him. Should I have another man come with me?"

"Yes, because I'll have him bring in the man James after I question Hayden. Tell him to wait for about ten minutes though. I will question Hayden first with no one else present but you."

"As you wish."

She left the common room and went to the side room to wait. William didn't take long, and Hayden was apparently very gullible.

"Not so much the prude then, eh?" he bellowed, swaggering into the room.

"William?" Kalysta said expectantly.

The innkeeper did not seem a formidable man at first glance, but Kalysta had seen him in action before and knew him to possess a strength and skill that few knew of. He stepped up behind Hayden and pulled the man's arms behind his back, bringing his knee up to collide with Hayden's side in the process.

Hayden doubled over, gasping in pain, and knelt on the floor. William grasped a handful of the Mullingan man's hair and wrenched him back to his feet.

"Bloody hell! What's this? Do ya not be knowin' who I am?" Hayden sputtered.

"I know perfectly well who you are, filth," Kalysta answered, stepping forward. "You're the man who raped a woman in Westtown a week ago. I'll be questioning you with William as my witness."

"I won't be answerin' anything, dumb bítch!" the vile man hissed, struggling to get away from his captor.

William used his hold in the man's hair to bring him around, swinging his knee up again, knocking the wind from Hayden and rendering him speechless. Hayden knelt once more, gasping for air.

Kalysta pulled the wig from her head and stood straighter.

"I am the Princess and you will answer my questions," she hissed. She walked forward and crouched to meet his gaze. "You will stand a fair trial, but until then, I need to know who else participated in the attack. Did the ambassador or any men besides James take part?"

Hayden took a moment trying to catch his breath. When he did, what he voiced wasn't a helpful addition. "Fück you, bítch!"

"William?" Kalysta sighed, stepping back.

The innkeeper pulled Hayden up again, this time locking one surprisingly strong arm around the man's neck and tightening it. Hayden, already winded, became purple quickly. He struggled, but it was futile; William was very obviously taller and stronger. 

Hayden tapped the William's arm urgently and when released he sank to the ground, coughing and choking. William grasped the man's hair tightly once more, pulling back so that he faced up toward Kalysta.

"I don't like repeating myself," Kalysta murmured once he'd caught his breath. "Answer the question."

"No one," he gasped a second later. "No one, but me and James. The ambassador ain't like that."

"I'm glad to hear he has at least one scrupulous bone in his body," Kalysta muttered. "Maybe that's one I won't have to break for him."

She looked down at the man before her.

"If I were to find out you were lying to me..."

"Bloody hell, I'm not lying," Hayden wheezed.

"Good," she said quietly. To William she said, "Take him outside and send someone for the Captain of the guard. I want him in the dungeons as he awaits his trial. Send in James next."


	9. Equally Guilty

James had no clue what he was in for when he entered the room, escorted by William's muscle man Elliott, a broad, tall man that was soft-spoken, but not afraid to use his considerable strength to achieve desired results. James was confused upon walking in and his confusion grew when he saw her. It was obvious he didn't recognize her.

"Who are-"

"Elliott?" Kalysta interrupted James.

Elliott stepped forward, grabbed James around the neck with one arm, and kneed him in the back of the legs. James gave a grunt of surprise as he lost his balance.

"What the bloody he-?" he gasped.

Elliott tightened his grip, cutting James off once more. 

"You and Hayden have confessed to the assault and rape of a young girl in Westtown last week," she continued, "a crime punishable by death whether you be native to this country or not."

James' eyes widened and he struggled against Elliott's grip, whimpering when his escape appeared futile. Kalysta couldn't believe his apparent cowardice.

"How do you plead?" she snapped. 

The pathetic man simply cried.

"Answer me!" Kalysta shouted.

"It-it wasn't me!" he complained, his face contorted into a self-pitying pout as tears poured down his cheeks.

"Really?" she asked snidely. "Then why did you confess to it in the common room?"

"I didn't do it!" he wailed. "Hayden did it. I was just there! I didn't touch her! I didn't want to! It's Hayden's taste that runs that way, not mine! I didn't do anything"

"You mean, you did nothing?" Kalysta hissed. "How is that any better? Do you realize that witnessing a capital crime without going for the guard or actively seeking to prevent it is considered equally punishable under the law? You are as guilty as he is, you selfish rat."

The man sobbed.

"Please, don't turn me in!" he begged. "I'll pay you! I can't die!"

"Turn you in?" she laughed mirthlessly. "I'm the Princess you sniveling whelp. You can't get more turned in than that. I heard you agree to Hayden's putrid words out there, so don't play dumb with me either."

The man stared at her, his face beyond horrified.

"Please, no," he whispered. "I-I have a family back home."

"You should have thought of them before you strutted your way into my country and watched as a girl's innocence was ripped from her by another man," Kalysta answered coldly. "The sanctity of human life cannot be overstated and you have irreparably destroyed that for someone else.

"You say you have children?" she continued. "Perhaps you should have thought how they'd feel of such actions while you watched that poor girl being savaged. You dishonor your family by bringing them into the same breath as your putrid acts. Save your begging."

The man gave a cry of anguish anyway.

"N-no!" he whined. "I'll do anything!"

She paused as if to consider, letting him suffer as he waited for her verdict.

"Anything?" Kalysta asked. "Really?"

"Yes!" he cried. "Please, I don't want to die!"

"Would you be willing to testify that it was Hayden?"

"Well-I- he's the Prince's-"

"Take this slime out of my sight, Elliott," she commanded, turning away.

"No!" James cried. "I'll do it! I'll-I'll do it."

"You'll testify to being there and to the fact that Hayden was the only perpetrator?" she clarified. "Because if I find out someone else was involved, yourself included, I will make sure your remaining life is short and filled with more pain that you could imagine."

"J-just him," James whimpered. "Please. I can't leave my family alone."

"I promised not to execute you, I never promised to let you return home." Kalysta shook her head. "You'll rot in my prison before I will even consider letting you free."

"Wh-what?" he sputtered. "But I agreed to testify!"

"And I agreed not to have you executed, as a sign of good will. Which would you rather, the noose or the dungeons? At least with the latter you'll be able to see your family when they visit."

She watched as the man before her broke down and sobbed once more. It was a difficult thing to watch a full grown man reduced to this blubbering mess, but Emily deserved justice. He deserved so much worse for standing by while such a crime was committed. 

She walked forward and crouched to his level. "I understand the difficulty of your situation, but everyone must learn at some point that there are consequences for their actions, or lack thereof in this case.

"Your King and Prince may be on the track to destroying your country, but I won't let the same happen to mine," she continued. "In return for your statement, I will offer your family asylum in this country where they will have a better chance of making it without your help. Women are able to own land here, unlike in Mullingar. She'll be able to start a legitimate business if she chooses and bring the children for visitation if she'd like.

"I am not heartless," she said, standing. "I simply wish for a battered young girl to receive the closure she needs to recover and for your countrymen to learn that Elysium is not without power. Your sentence and Hayden's execution can serve to remind your King Murdoch of that."

She moved back and went to the door, slipping her hood up to cover her face and hair.

"Elliott, find William and the palace guards and have this man taken to the prison to await the official trial."

"Yes, your Majesty," the man said, pulling James into a standing position.

Kalysta left under the cover of her hooded cloak and returned to the castle via the passage in the garden. She'd broken her cover as "Lyra" when she had exposed herself to Hayden, so she wouldn't be able to use that again. But she deemed the situation well worth it.

Now, it was time the Ambassador learned a lesson. The thought made her smile in anticipation.


	10. Your Only Hope

The Ambassador was reading a book in an armchair near the window when she let herself into his room. As she leaned her back against the door to close it, he rose slowly, setting the book aside and slipping a small dagger from his sleeve to grasp in his hand. His wary look told her he did not trust her in coming to his room this late at night.

"Princess," he said carefully. "To what do I owe this late night pleasure?"

"Do you actually plan on doing anything with that dagger, Ambassador?" Kalysta asked, irritated. She saw his eyes narrow as he scrutinized her, weighing whether or not she was a threat to him. "As you can see," she continued, "I do not have a weapon."

"That does not make you entirely harmless, though, does it?" he asked quietly, showing forethought she had not believed him to possess. He turned so that he was facing her fully, his movements lithe and measured. "And despite your assurances I do not believe for a second that you are unarmed. There's probably a blade in that bodice or stowed in your belt. So again, I ask, why are you here?"

"If I give up my blade, will you drop yours?"

"Answer the question first."

"I am here to discuss a rape your men committed in Westtown," she hissed. "That is all."

"My men?" he asked, surprised. He thought for a moment, then carefully laid his dagger on the bed, moving away from it. "I have laid down mine and I do not have any more on my person. It's your turn."

Kalysta thought for a moment, then reached up to remove the knife that was nestled next to her breast on the right side, pulling it sheath and all and tossing it onto the bed as well. She didn't mention the one to the left side. He need not know about that one. And even if he was willing to place his safety in her hands, she was ready to offer the same to him.

"Ah, I took you for a bodice kind of lass," he said knowingly, waggling his eyebrows at her.

"And what is that supposed to mean?" Kalysta exclaimed outraged.

"Women with small bosoms often hide their weapons there as a form of compensation."

Fury ignited in her and she had to fight not to throw one of her remaining blades into his smug face. A knife an eye might improve his looks some. She pushed this thought back and appeared outwardly calm.

"I suppose that extravagantly gilded sword that you swagger around with does the same then," she snapped.

"Only one way to find out, Princess," he teased, putting his hands on his hips and winking at her.

"You are disgusting!" Kalysta hissed. "I wondered if you were as backwards and primitively animalistic as your men, and you've just confirmed it. I only wish I had a witness against you for a crime so I could lock you up too, immoral ape, not that I haven't tried."

"Locked up?" Zayn asked quickly, all hint of joking gone. "Who have you locked up? And why was I not notified?"

"He's locked up for rape, you dull pig," she retorted, "which is the reason I came here in the first place. Your man, Hayden, confessed to the rape of a girl in West town last week, a girl who came to me for help. The other man, James, was present and failed to assist her. He watched instead, which is equally punishable under the law."

"Hayden?" Zayn whispered hoarsely. "You locked up Hayden? Of all the foolishness! You have to let him go!"

"Why, because you'll throw a tantrum?" Kalysta asked snidely. "I've dealt with children misbehaving before and you wouldn't be any different."

"Gods, no, woman," he breathed. He lurched forward and gripped her wrist before she could react. "He's noble! You can't arrest him!"

Kalysta didn't take too long to react, though. She swung and brought her knee up into his crotch, making him release his hold on her and drop to the floor, groaning.

"You may be allowed to manhandle the women in your country, pig, but not here," she said venomously. "If you ever deign to touch me again I will cut off whatever part you touch me with, have no doubt."

"No, please," he groaned, getting to his knees and standing up slowly. "If you truly want what's best for your country, you'll take me to Hayden and release him. I do not jest. You risk igniting a war between our countries, right now, tonight, if do not do as I say."

"I'm not going to release a rapist simply because he's a noble!" Kalysta cried.

"He's the Prince's cousin, the King's favorite nephew!" Zayn cried desperately. "If they hear one word about this, you can be sure that they will march on this nation as quickly as a war draft can be drawn up. They will either come to rescue him or attempt to avenge him. You need to take me to him, now!"

"Surely not," Kalysta breathed, but suddenly she wasn't so sure. Murdoch wasn't called the Mad King for nothing. He could very well have such a reaction to a family member being imprisoned in another country.

"I would stake my life on it," Zayn said, still breathing heavily in pain, bent slightly forward to rest his palms on his knees. "He's my father after all. If you take me to Hayden, I can persuade him not to bring this before King Murdoch. I'm your only hope right now, so please take me to him."


	11. War or Diplomacy

Kalysta led the way down to the dungeons, wondering how things could have gone so wrong. Justice was necessary, and Hayden couldn't get away with this! But could she risk her entire nation in favor of executing one man for an isolated crime? This was the time that she truly hated being in charge of a nation. Emily, the poor girl, was deserving of having her persecutors punished, and getting rapists out of the public sphere was usually nothing but a positive. Now, the skewed standards of a more powerful nation risked everything that she stood for and put her people in danger. Could she set aside a promise for justice and her own morals to save her country? What was a person without their own idea of morals? If she compromised this, what else would she be willing to give in to just because another nation was putting pressure on her?

"Let me go ahead and speak with him by myself." Zayn's voice interrupted her from her musings.

"Is that necessary?" Kalysta asked warily.

"It will be better if I don't have to deflect his hatred away from you or be conscientious of your feelings while I am talking him down," he explained. "Hayden is easily manipulated if the details are favorable and those details will be more so without you present."

Again, he showed an intelligence and reasoning that she had thought beyond his capabilities. She'd thought him simply his father's stooge. If he had shown this side in council, been less scathing perhaps, things would have gone better there. And she might not despise him so much.

"I will do as you ask," she said softly.

He chuckled softly.

"I did not expect that," he admitted. "I thought I'd have to prevent more of a case to get past your fabled stubbornness."

She chose to ignore the last part.

"Well you've never suggested anything of merit before that I could agree with so easily," she countered.

This made him laugh outright.

"I suppose it would seem so to you."

Kalysta stayed silent, continuing the route down in the dark. She knew the way, though she hated even being here. However many torches they put in here, there was a darkness that would not go away. A dungeon wasn't supposed to be comfortable, and she would be happy to be out of it as soon as possible.

She stopped him before they rounded the next corner. "His cell will be up ahead," she whispered.

"I'll going to see what I can do to divert his anger away from you and onto me," Zayn explained. "We've never gotten along, so it shouldn't be difficult." He frowned.

It was then that Kalysta realized Hayden was Zayn's cousin as well. She'd just come to him in the middle of the night and threatened to execute his cousin! It was a miracle he'd responded the way he did.

"He deserves to be incarcerated, no doubt, and I'll tell him that," Zayn continued. "I'll do what I can, but his anger toward me on't last long. He'll need to be released, and soon."

"We'll discuss it later," Kalysta replied stiffly.

"Yes, because our discussions always go so well," he sighed. He paused before going around the corner. "Just... wait here," he instructed. "I won't be long."

"Then hurry," she whispered. "I have more to be about." That was a bluster. Everything was on standstill until she knew how this played out.

Zayn nodded in agreement and walked out of sight.

She leaned against the wall and listened carefully. The cell was within earshot and she wanted to know exactly what the Ambassador would say to Hayden. It was but a moment.

"Good to see ya, bastard," she heard Hayden drawl. "Thought I'd be in here all night. That prude bitch at the inn turned out to be a real piece of work."

"What?" Zayn's didn't have to feign his surprise. "Who from the inn?"

"That Lyra bitch! She's the Princess!" Hayden exclaimed. "She tricked me into a side room and had me beaten by that innkeeper! I was right. He's not to be trusted! She took off some blonde hair and suddenly Lyra was the Princess!"

"That is... that's very interesting..." Zayn's voice was tight, as if he were speaking through gritted teeth.

Kalysta hadn't considered this part of the upset. Her hope had been to keep anyone else from finding out about her double-life. She should have known better, particularly after revealing herself in such a dramatic fashion.

"I have a hard time believing it," Zayn continued.

"I'm tellin' ya, it's true!" Hayden cried. "Now get me the hell outta here. This place reeks."

"You're not getting out tonight." Zayn's voice was back to its authoritative, cold manner.

"Bloody hell!" Hayden barked. "Don't mess about! I'm not going to spend another minute in here!"

"I warned you, Hayden. You didn't listen. I told all of you that I can't protect you in another country when you blatantly commit a crime of this nature. Lyra, the Princess, whoever she is, she may be deceitful and prudish, but she somehow tricked you into confessing to a capital crime. Unfortunate for you, she can order your death following a fair trial."

"I'm going to kill that dumb bítch." There was a rattling of metal as Hayden apparently hit the bars in emphasis. "Your brother won't stand for this, and neither will Uncle Mur. She'll pay. I'll just have to make sure I'm the one exacting that payment. I'll make her squeal."

"Do you really think that my brother will champion himself for you just because you couldn't keep your stunted prick to yourself?" Zayn said snidely. "Niall's not an idiot and neither am I. You won't be making excuses with either of us. You could have hired a woman. They have that here at least, but no-"

"I shouldn't have to!" Hayden roared. "I take as I want because that's what Royalty gets and no cunt is going to tell me differently, even if she is a supposed Princess!"

The ambassador didn't seem to be deflecting the anger very well. Kalysta didn't think she could listen to the man spout anymore profanity without going in there and shutting him up herself.

"You're forgetting that I gave you orders," Zayn repeated. "I'm of half a mind to let you be taken to the gallows simply for being so basic as to put our work in jeopardy for your urges."

"Why continue with this farce?" Hayden asked. "Uncle Mur could take this place anytime he wanted to. We can see that now! They're wallowing in the wake of the Five Year War. They aren't organized militarily at all! Why are we lowering ourselves to make treaties with-"

"Shut the hell up!"

Kalysta was clearly not supposed to hear that.

"You show yourself to be simpler the more you open your mouth," Zayn hissed. "Why would you want to deplete a country's resources and exhaust their riches in war when diplomacy gets you all of that?"

"Diplomacy is for weaklings," Hayden grumbled.

"That's because you won't think of anything outside your own appetites," Zayn said harshly.

They were both silent for a moment.

"I can't help you tonight," Zayn said next.

"Fücking hell!" Hayden exclaimed. "I'm not staying in here a full night!"

"Yes you are," Zayn said. "I guess I could probably get you out now, but I think you should stew in here a bit, consider what you've done. Maybe next time you'll think before you endanger your King's plans for one rut."

"To hell with you, Zayn!" Hayden cried.

"And I order you to keep this silent," Zayn said, talking over him. "You will not tell my brother or the King."

"I'm going to tell them the minute I get out of here!" Hayden spewed venomously. "You won't order me around this away!"

"I can and will," Zayn said. "Otherwise, you're staying in here to rot. I'd just tell the King that you were swept overboard on the return trip. It is storm season. Don't tempt me."

"You're the devil."

"I've been called much worse."

Kalysta heard Zayn's footfalls coming back to her corner.

"Come, Princess," he whispered when he came into view. "We have much to discuss." He strode back the way they'd come.

"I'm deceitful and prudish?" she asked snidely, catching up quickly.

"We're not baring it all right here," Zayn snapped. "We'll go somewhere we won't be overheard."

Kalysta stopped in the middle of the passageway, letting Zayn continue for a moment ahead of her. He stopped a second later, looking back at her.

"Keep moving, Princess," he ordered.

"I'm thinking you're forgetting your place," Kalysta breathed.

"No, I'm not. My place is keeping you from starting a war in your maniacal crusade for justice. Now, let's move. We can continue this elsewhere."

"Maniacal crusade for justice?" Kalysta cried. "How is it maniacal to bring a rapist to the proper authorities and let a poor girl sleep in peace another night? You're the one that's maniacal for allowing such behavior in the first place! Have you no respect for a fellow human being?"

"Oh, I have plenty of respect, Lyra," he hissed. "However, we're not going to figure out how much while in the middle of your dungeons where clearly sound carries and anyone could listen in."

"Why should I listen or give you the time of day anymore?"

"Because I'm not everything you think I am."

"You're still going to be a pompous ass, no matter what you have to say," Kalysta warned.

Zayn snorted softly. "You'll be singing a different tune in a bit," he said mysteriously.

"I highly doubt that."

"Just come along, and I'll explain everything."


	12. A Unified Dalitrise

Kalysta led the way out of the dungeons, still frustrated, still confused. "We can meet in the council chambers," she offered. 

"Are you sure nothing can be overheard in there?" Zayn asked warily. "That's the place everyone wants to listen in on, big decisions made there and all that."

"As sure as anyone can be about such things. The walls around it are solid stone and there are guards posted in the connecting halls to prevent eavesdropping at the doors."

"I can't have anyone knowing what I'm going to tell you."

"Oh really? I gathered that." She snorted under her breath.

"No need to be rude," he complained.

Kalysta laughed outright at that. "And what have you been doing the entire time since we met?"

Zayn didn't respond and the rest of the trip to the council chambers was silent.

"You have me here against my better judgment," she said when they arrived. The room was formidable by design and it felt even more so in the absence of her council. She sat at the head of the large rectangular table, hoping this would give her the authority he had ignored up until now. "What is the information that is so drastic it will change my very low opinion of you?"

Zayn did not seat himself, seeming too agitated to rest his feet. He sighed and paused to gather his thoughts for a moment.

"A hundred years ago, there was a time of increased hostility and unrest between Mullingar and Bradford," he began solemnly.

Kalysta just sat there, baffled by the random history lesson he seemed to be unfolding. What on earth was his motive here? She knew the history of Dalitrise! That was part of royal training from a young age. She could probably tell this story.

"Most would say that this was my great-grandfather's fault, related to the greed that is so prevalent in the Mullingar royal family even now," he continued. This tone was a surprise, though. Calling out his family's greed insinuated that he did not agree with their political stance. "However, the real reason is much closer to home. At the age of twenty, legitimate royal children take a leave of duty. They travel the country, supposedly to learn about the inhabitants and attain a better understanding of their fellow people, but it really ends up being a time of lax responsibility and morals before they become royally encumbered by the nation. Stasiya, the Princess at the time, was on her royal leave when she ran into the wrong crowd of Bradians. She foolishly traveled without the proper protection and... well, you can infer what happened. She returned, barely, and shut herself into her quarters, never to be seen outside the palace again.

"As you can imagine, my great-grandfather, King Kayin, was inconsolable. Only the quick word from his advisors stopped him from going to war with Bradford immediately. Instead, they encouraged him to bide his time. Some of the best rulers throughout history were terrible people, but terrible people with good advisers. Kayin was not one of them. He was a bad man, worse ruler, and led by a counsel of even worse men. They guided him to a revenge by destroying Bradford's economy and essentially taking over under the guise of helping them. They turned to their destroyer for help, and now Bradford exists subservient to Mullingar in everything. Really, he dismantled them worse than if he'd gone to war with Bradford. He destroyed an entire people group for what a group of outlawed thugs had done to his daughter."

Kalysta wasn't surprised, given what Murdoch was up to now. At least Kayin had possessed subtlety. Rage had been passed down, but not subtlety.

"Is this your way of trying to discourage me from keeping Hayden in prison?" she sighed. "Because I'm not your great-grandfather. I won't wage a personal vendetta against Mullingar... just Hayden. You might as well save your breath."

Zayn shook his head emphatically.

"Quite the contrary, actually," he said quietly. "I'm saying this to bring to mind the fact that not everything is what it seems. Yes, my father's greed has tainted Mullingar's image, but was my great-grandather's anger so misplaced? Everyone has written history to say it was his greed that made him practically enslave Bradford, when it was simply revenge-albeit too widespread."

"It was ill-executed, that's what I would say. Revenge never makes the best decisions."

"I would whole-heartedly agree, but furthermore, I would warn you not to fix motives to things without prior knowledge of the full story. That's what I aim to caution you to with this story."

"Ah, this is your attempt to gain my trust despite your crude and self-centered behavior the past few days?" she asked exasperatedly.

"Again, not exactly," he said. "I just want you to remember that not everything is what it seems."

"I will do my best to keep that in mind as you explain yourself," Kalysta scoffed. "Now, will you actually explain or will I be given another history lesson?"

"A little less attitude would be appreciated," he pointed out.

"You've been two-faced in your dealings this entire time, so you'll get less attitude when you reveal why I should be trusting you instead of throwing you in prison with Hayden," Kalysta replied.

"I guess I deserve that," Zayn sighed, nodding. "I have no sure way to get you to trust me, but all I can do is try." He sat down and leaned back, seeming to ponder his words again.

"How shall I say this?" he spouted, leaning forward now. Another moment passed. "You are not the only ruler frustrated with the, frankly obvious, strong-arm tendencies displayed by Mullingar."

"Ruler?" Kalysta questioned. "I am the Princess Heir. My father isn't quite old enough to pass the Crown to me."

"Come now, Your Highness," he said dotingly. "Let us refrain from lying to each other. It does not benefit either of us."

"I don't understand what you mean."

"Oh, yes, yes you do," he insisted. "It's one of the worst-kept secrets that Elysian rulers let their heirs take over on their sixteenth birthday. Your father has ever been cautiously moderate in his dealings, but two years ago he seemed to go back on much of that. It's been the same with every heir of Elysium for the past several generations. The heirs take control in everything but the public sphere, don't they? It helps you gain experience before actually taking the throne. It's smart, really."

Kalysta was very unpleasantly surprised... and she didn't like the feeling. She and her father had been under the impression that none of the other rulers were privy to their running of Elysium.

"Oh, don't worry, Your Highness," Zayn said quickly, smirking. "Murdoch is aware of this, but as long as your father pretends the edicts come from him then there's not much anyone can say. Why do you think he's so vehement about your not becoming Queen? Elysium's enemies may be aware, but they don't know what to do with the knowledge."

"But you're Elysium's enemy, and you're certainly doing something with the knowledge," Kalysta breathed. She was having a hard time getting air into her lungs. This meeting was not going at all how she had expected.

"Come now," Zayn admonished, "we haven't established that yet, have we? How can you assume I'm the enemy without knowing me?"

"I'm supposed to believe that a son of Murdoch isn't my enemy?" Kalysta asked, incredulous.

"You are more than the daughter of King Jonathan, as I am more than a bastard child of Murdoch." The sentence came out a hiss, showing more emotion than Kalysta had seen from him in the entirety of their interactions. "Each of us possesses more facets than that. If we were to judge based on one facet, then I would still believe you to be a spoiled, know-it-all Princess."

Kalysta gritted her teeth at the insult, but said, "Very well, continue."

"No more lying then," Zayn insisted. "Now, as I said, there are more rulers frustrated with Murdoch, itching beneath his hand and the threat of Mullingar's growing military prowess," he said. "These rulers have formed a bit of a... resistance, shall we say, against him using methods of subterfuge and distraction to keep him from accomplishing some of his goals."

"You are neither ruler nor an heir," Kalysta interrupted. "Where do you fall in with this supposed resistance?"

"I am the Ambassador of Mullingar, so I am trusted by my father and given freedom of rein to go where I like. Therefore, I am ideal as a go-between, a messenger to the different rulers in the resistance." He stated this as if it were the most obvious thing in the world, as if his behavior hadn't directly aligned him with all that Mullingar stood for.

"Then you are claiming to be part of this resistance" Kalysta asked, her skepticism apparent.

"How can I prove this to you?" he asked quietly. "I organize the movements the resistance makes with the help of my men. There aren't many movements, but we do get about."

"I don't know how you can prove yourself," Kalyst said honestly. "This whole thing seems far-fetched, like one of Murdoch's ludicrous and certifiably insane notions to find fault in me. He would love to catch us in a supposed 'resistance'."

"Even he's not that convoluted in his thinking," Zayn complained.

"I'm confused as to why you're even involved or why you are explaining this to me."

"I'm involved because what Murdoch is doing is wrong," he answered simply. "As for why I'm telling you... I thought that would be obvious. We need your help, a unified Dalitrise to stop him. This doesn't work without every single country committed to doing what is necessary for the common good."

"And you want my help?"

"I would think that you would be eager to join," Zayn confessed.

"Yes, but I haven't received any proof that I can trust anyone else involved with it!" Kalysta complained. "What countries are involved? What will be my role? How serious of a resistance are we talking here, just subterfuge or more like an all-out war against Mullingar?"

"You haven't seen proof yet," Zayn said confidently. He reached into his pocket and pulled out an envelope, tossing it to her. "I think everything will be explained there. In case you weren't knowledgeable of such things, that's the royal seal of King Naseer of Bradford."

"Yes, I know," Kalysta breathed, reaching out reverently to grasp the letter. The red wax was heavy and the seal easily recognizable. It was indeed the seal of the Bradian King, or else a masterful forgery. But somehow, Kalysta doubted that. Could she dare to hope for a resistance already in place? It seemed too good to be true.

She pulled her other knife out from the left side of her bodice to break the seal.

"Very good, Your Highness," Zayn chuckled. "I see you're not as gullible and trusting as I feared."

Kalysta didn't answer. She simply opened the envelope and spread the paper out before her, reading through the elegant script quickly. The handwriting was impeccable and matched perfectly with other documents she'd seen containing King Naseer's writing.

When she finished a moment later, she looked up at Zayn.

"Yes?" he asked expectantly. "Was that proof enough? I'm not sure what he wrote, I was just told it should be proof enough that he was part of the resistance and that you could trust me."

Kalysta's face split into a grin, the first she'd ever showed him. His smile in return was stunning and for a moment they simply looked at each other. She could hardly contain her excitement, though.

"Ambassador, I believe we have much more to discuss. Forgive me."


	13. Shaky Truce

"He persuaded you, then?" Zayn asked eagerly.

"Yes, he did," Kalysta said, still smiling. After a moment, though, her face fell.

"What's wrong?" Zayn questioned.

"King Naseer says you are trustworthy and hold to the same beliefs as the other nations," she said quietly.

"That's true." Zayn nodded. "I don't agree with Mullingar's method of operations, there's much that has rotted in that country, more than just the rulers. You'd think with its heritage that Mullingar would be the last country to allow what it does. But Murdoch has never been the most moral or reasonable man."

"Is there a reason you've been treating me like the scum on your boots this entire time, then?" Kalysta snapped angrily. "If you believe women should be treated with equal respect, then you have a bloody terrible way of showing it! You've taken every chance possible to put me down and ignore me and disparage my authority. At first I thought perhaps it was just me you were treating badly, except that you essentially called me a seducing distraction when I was Lyra, insinuating that I was attempting to get your men into trouble with the law by using my feminine wiles. I think "dirty hussy" was what I was called?"

"Hayden called you that, not me," Zayn said quietly.

"And that makes it okay for you to just sit by and watch without doing anything?" Kalysta's anger wouldn't be deterred. "I'm supposed to trust you, but everything is a trick with you! Who are you really, a man who fights to undermine his family and respects women in authority or a chauvinist like your family? I'm tired of your two faces!"

"And what do you have to say for your two faces?" Zayn yelled back. "You're a Princess that flaunts herself as a common serving wench? That doesn't give me much faith in your ability to rule. Perhaps you just enjoy playing dress-up?"

"That's used for information-gathering purposes!" Kalysta protested.

"What, you have no one else who can spy on your people?"

"None that have as much knowledge and experience as I do!"

"How would the whole of Elysium react if they found out their Princess was mucking around as a common trollop?" he mocked her.

"They'd probably be glad that the royalty actually does work in their nation, unlike some others we know!" Kalysta laughed scornfully. "What do you do besides play at a resistance and insult people for no reason? We began cordially on my birthday and you immediately took hits at me, calling me a child and spouting your stupidity about "women only speak when spoken to"! It's no wonder I don't want to trust you when the only experiences I have around you are of you scorning and degrading me! See? You're still a pompous ass, even after all of this!"

Zayn's eyes widened at her outburst and he seemed stuck for words at the moment. He rose suddenly from his chair and moved toward where she was sitting.

Kalysta grabbed her knife from where she'd placed it on the table, gripping it and rising to meet him.

"No, no," Zayn said quickly, holding his hand in front of him as a calming gesture. His expression was penitent. "I am making no move to harm you."

He slowed, and as he approached her he knelt at her feet, taking her completely by surprised.

"You have my most humble and sincere apology for my behavior, Your Highness," he said solemnly. She didn't think she could be more gobstruck, but then he took her hand, the one not holding the knife, and held it carefully between both of his. The physical contact made a warm rush spread from her fingertips to her body. He shouldn't be touching her like this; it was improper. But she found herself keeping her hand there, nestled by his callused palms, unable to move it for some reason.

"I've treated you abysmally, Your Highness," he said. "In my defense, I need to keep up the appearance of following Mullingar ideas and viewpoints, but I should have told you sooner who I was. I should have taken you aside and explained my behavior."

"Keep up the appearance?" Kalysta asked quietly. "Who in Elysium would care your viewpoint enough to tell your father? Is it the people with you? Would your own men turn you in?"

"I can trust my fellow Bradian men, but not those from Mullingar," he clarified. He still held her hand and his thumb on the upper hand was drifting gently back in forth, another attempt to keep them both calm it seemed. "As well, there actually are people here who would be happy to inform Murdoch of my actions."

"What? Who here would do that?" Kalysta asked sharply.

"No one in your staff, no," he rushed to assure her, "and not for lack of trying on Mullingar's part. I mean people in your country in general."

"I take it you've corrupted some of my nobles?"

"Precisely."

"I would not put it past them," she said thoughtfully. "They have not appreciated my movements to decrease the gap between classes. The whole of them are stuck thinking that people can only be what they were born into, and nothing more." 

"Yes, several approached Murdoch, again, after you sixteenth birthday when your new policies came into play. They're part of the reason we can confirm your role as the true leader of Elysium."

"I did not expect this from you," Kalysta said next, "your apology at least."

"I know," Zayn sighed. "So often pride is at fault for a continued conflict, and it was mine extending it now."

"It wasn't all yours," she admitted, finally coming to her senses enough to pull her hand away from his. "I feel like I have much to compensate for with my age and I can bluster and get irritated enough to start any disagreement."

Zayn rose suddenly from his knees to stand in front of her, still too close for propriety. She looked away.

"So, no more arguing?" he asked, moving his head so she would look him in the eye. "I can't guarantee that I'll be cordial in mixed company, but I apologize ahead of time for the idiocy I'm forced to assume to hide my true political standing."

"Thank you for warning me," she said, doing her best to hide the trembling that had started in her limbs in response to his close proximity. "As long as we continue to communicate and you continue to prove yourself trustworthy then there shouldn't be a problem."

"I'll do my best," he whispered, as if sharing a secret with her.

Slowly, he reached out, grasping a lock of her hair and rubbing it between his thumb and forefinger.

"It's too bad you must keep your hair up for societal structures." His voice was low and filled with some emotion that she couldn't identify. "Your hair is beautiful like this."

Finally shaking herself free of the spell he seemed to have put on her, she reached behind to put her hair up into a loose bun held by a sinew band.

"Yes, I had forgotten it was down," she said, hoping he didn't notice the creak in her voice. How was he affecting her like this? They were at each other's throats in anger just a minute ago! "Thank you for reminding me."

"I didn't say that so you'd put it up!" he chuckled.

After holding her gaze for another moment, he moved toward the door.

"D-Do you want to see what King Naseer wrote of you in the letter?" she asked, surprising herself with the excuse to keep him around.

That delighted grin spread across his face as he turned back to her.

"Of course, Princess. It'd be my pleasure."


	14. Best Nation in Dalitrise

"Would you care to read it yourself?" Kalysta asked carefully, mentally kicking herself for extending their time alone. It was a risk, especially after the confusingly intense moment just a bit before.

"I'd rather have you read it to me," he said, smiling softly and sitting in his previous chair across the council table from her. Maybe he, too, was trying ease the effect of whatever had happened earlier.

She was glad for the space, her mind still reeling. She'd have to analyze all of this later.

"Very well," she said, keeping her voice on a tight rein to prevent further embarrassing discrepancies.

"Princess Kalysta," she began, her excitement returning as she read it, "I hope this finds you safe and before your country has fallen to Mullingar as mine did. I entrust this letter to Ambassador Zayn, Murdoch's son, with the hope that he will deliver it at the proper time. I cannot express the gravity of this situation, but I hope you read this letter in a safe place and keep it close, because I have put my life and the lives of my people in jeopardy writing it." 

"Dreadfully cheerful, isn't he?" Zayn chimed in.

"Hush, or I'll stop reading," she admonished.

He bit his lower lip to hide a smile and nodded in agreement.

Kalysta continued.

"You're reading this because the ambassador has shared our secret, the secret of our plans to stop Murdoch's collection of Dalitrise, for I believe that is what he intends. He has my nation in his grasp, he clearly desires yours, and I have no hope that he'd stop there. We must thwart him before he gains momentum and especially before he makes a full move on Elysium.

"Unfortunately, my hands are tied. Many of the other nations are not as committed to the resistance because they don't have a motivating factor. Their countries are not in immediate danger while Murdoch's attention is on you and Elysium. They aren't as ready to engage with Mullingar, but I am doing my best to change that. I could use your help, and I'm sure I don't have to impress the importance of a resistance on you. I have been reticent until now to make these advances to you, but nothing is gained by cowardice.

"I know it's difficult to believe that someone so close to Murdoch-I speak of Zayn in this case-could have good motives, but the ambassador has given more to this cause than can be described, and I owe him my life in the process. He was the one who first approached me, warily, I might add, with the idea of working to regain our independence and thwarting Murdoch's greed. At first, I believed it to be a trap." Kalysta smirked at Zayn upon reading this part. "However, Zayn has proved himself time and time over. I can't make you trust him, but I can tell you that he is determined to see that his father does not continue this reign of madness. He has spoken to me considerably about his convictions on the matter and the difficulty in being raised in the royal family. Perhaps you may gain more in discussion with him.

"We are doing our best to stop this, but I feel I am alone at times. Your help would be of the utmost value and I am sure Zayn would be most obliging in facilitating any needs you may have.

"Faithfully hoping,

Naseer, King of Bradford, Bearer of the Broken Sceptre."

She finished the letter and looked up at him. 

Zayn's face was a mixture of amusement and surprise. "I didn't realize he thought so highly of me," he laughed, getting a fond look on his face. "He is never so open about his feelings in public."

"Is that so?" she said, musing. His expression was lighter, more joyful than she'd seen it since she met him. The previous amusement he had shown had always held a cynical air. He was more open now, freely expressing what he couldn't before.

"He's not one I would describe as austere, but he does tend to hide his emotions more," he explained. "It's considered a good thing in Bradford, especially among the royals, if you are adept at hiding your feelings."

"I don't believe I'd fit in well there," she said lightly.

Zayn's laughter rang out, the first time she had heard him laugh with abandon. It was such a pleasant sound that she couldn't help wanting to hear it again.

"No, you most definitely would not fit in well," he agreed, "but that's not necessarily a bad thing. Emotion has its place. It is a dangerous thing to expel emotion from your life, because it can take love with it."

Kalysta was surprised once more. She had never thought him capable of such a profound thought. He was a completely different person in this moment than she'd known before.

"Don't look so shocked, Princess," he admonished. "A belief in Mullingar's ideals is not the only front I set up when I'm around others. Intelligence and wisdom is less touted than cunning and wile is, so those qualities often go unnoticed and hidden in Mullingar."

"That's a shame, because here those qualities are prized and elevated," she replied solemnly.

"Yes, yes, Elysium is the best nation in Dalitrise, I know." 

Was he teasing her? She was flabbergasted by this change in his attitude. Every time she thought she'd gotten a handle on him, he showed some other facet of personality previously hidden from view.

He stood up abruptly.

"You have my thanks for reading the letter to me," he offered. "However, tomorrow is a big day; our people will be meeting here again tomorrow evening to discuss a settlement. We'll need our rest and our wits about us."

"I agree, Ambassador," she said, rising from her seat as well.

He gave her a pondering look for a second, then bowed and exited.

The minute he left, Kalysta dropped back into her chair. She was exhausted. So many things had changed in a matter of hours, between Hayden, Zayn's tale, and the knowledge of the resistance, her mind was spinning. Then there was the strange moment when he held her hand. What had she been thinking? There was nothing she could do now, but she knew what to watch out for. She simply couldn't allow him to touch her again.

Now, it was time to meet with her father, regardless of the late hour.


	15. Right and Wrong

For all his insistence that he wasn't a dutiful king, Kalysta found her father awake despite the late hour and pouring over financial summaries in his study. 

"Oh, Pa-pa, it's obvious I learned my dedication from the best," she commented, stepping into his study. He sighed and ran his hand through his hair.

"Dearest, I am a creature born from adversity," he said. "My first choice would not be to scour documents to scrounge up money our country doesn't possess."

"Not your first choice, perhaps, but you're still here at the first hour of the morning," she pointed out.

"I suppose so," he acquiesced. "Now what has you up so late... or early?"

"The Ambassador approached me with a stunning concept, after we discussed Hayden's incarceration," she began, but he cut her off.

"Hayden? What's this about Hayden?"

"I had him arrested," she answered, confused at his consternation. "He confessed to raping Emily, my personal maid."

"Release him," he breathed, "release him immediately."

"I beg your pardon, Father," she protested, "but I thought I just heard you order me to release a criminal."

"Release him," he repeated.

"I won't! We may not be able to hang the prick, but he can certainly let him fume while he cogitates on what he did wrong. Besides..." She bit her lip, wondering how much she should reveal to him. She'd never questioned her father's rationale before, but she was starting to. "I've got the situation well in hand. You don't have to worry about Hayden."

"We already walk on a knife's edge, Kalysta!" he spouted. "Would you incite Murdoch further by arresting his favorite nephew?"

"He committed a capital offense within our borders!" she cried. "His position and bloodlines should be of no consequence!" Her father was starting to sound like a Mullingan, always tempering punishments based on having friends in high positions, another thing she despised about their ruling class.

"I do not decide how the world operates, I simply live in it." His eyes were narrowed and his breaths came heavy. "You may think me fearful, but I have more than one life to think of. It's terrible, what he's done, but we cannot endanger all of Elysium for this."

"This isn't about fear any longer, Father," she responded coldly. "This is about right and wrong. You're choosing wrong. What kind of ruler can you claim to be if you are willing to sacrifice everything our nation stands for in order to take the easy way out? You're right. We do stand on a knife's edge and on one side is difficult morality, on the other is an easy decision accompanied by the abandonment of all we've championed for generations."

"I don't expect you to understand this at your age," her father scoffed. "Choosing the lesser of two evils has never been an easy decision. It's very difficult for me to do this, but it is necessary."

"And I thought at your age you would realize the importance of this," she answered in kind. "Age is supposed to grant you wisdom, not remove it. This is no choice between two evils. This is a clear choice between right and wrong! Choose carefully, I beg of you, because the efficacy of all we've worked for rests on you."

With that last sentence she left without being dismissed. She would leave him to think about what she had said. The conversation had her reeling. Never had she so wholly disagreed with her father, and never had she voiced her conflict in so forthright a manner. 

She didn't want to take matters into her own hands, but she would do what needed to be done.

\-----------------------------------------------------

The walk to her room left her seething and thinking about how stupidity could infect anyone, even her level-headed father. He had never been so ready to succumb to pressure before. Although, she had to admit that they had never faced pressure like this, the threat of a battle looming.

"What has that Ambassador done to have you so petulant this time?" Delia asked as Kalysta entered the room. Emily was there as well, holding a towel, presumably for Kalysta to use in her bath. Delia really was serious about training her well.

"Surprisingly, it's not the Ambassador this time," Kalysta sighed. "It's my father."

"That is a surprise," Delia commented. "What is going on?"

Kalysta looked to Emily, unsure how to explain that she had to release the man who had raped the poor girl. She steeled herself.

"Emily, I have something I need to tell you," she said quietly.

"Yes, milady?"

"I found the man that... hurt you," she said.

"W-well that's a blessing," Emily commented, obviously unsure of how to respond.

"He is in the dungeons, but my father plans to release him soon." Kalysta said this quickly, hoping that Emily wouldn't have a breakdown at the news.

She hoped too much, it seemed.

"B-but you said-..." The girl seemed to be having trouble breathing.

"I'm sorry, Emily," Kalysta sighed. "I arrested him after he confessed, but he is King Murdoch's nephew. My father believes it best if we release him because if not, we risk causing a war between our nations."

The girl gasped for air, the fear of knowing the man was out again making her lose all semblance of control.

"Emily, I need you to breathe," Delia said, cutting in. "Breathe inward through your nose, and out through your mouth. Do it, child!" Emily did as commanded, but as she started to breathe properly, tears began to run down her face and sobs replaced her erratic breathing patterns.

"Emily, I'm sorry," Kalysta repeated. "I'm sorry this has happened."

"H-he's going to get me again," Emily gasped. "He's going to find me!"

"No, he won't!" Kalysta said sharply. "I won't let him anywhere near you. You stay in this room, and don't leave unless Delia is with you. She'll take care of you." A thought struck Kalysta a moment later. "And Emily, there are ways to find justice for you outside of court rooms and trials. He won't get away with this, no matter who he's related to, I promise."

Emily just nodded, still crying.

"Let's go to the kitchens, child," Delia said, pulling Emily under her arm. "We'll get something to eat and I'll talk you through this." They walked toward the door and Delia said, "I'll be back later to clean up, milady. Try not to mess up your room too much."

Kalysta scoffed, but they were already gone.

She removed her gown and climbed into bed. It had been such a very long day. How could so much have changed, gone wrong, and been fixed all in the matter of a day? She would never understand it.


	16. Contingencies

She spent the entire next day going over the paperwork she'd been neglecting. It was her least favorite part of ruling, but she understood the necessity of it.

Eventually, evening rolled around and it was time for the council meeting. She'd been dreading it. She knew that her father wouldn't give her the floor this time. She'd been too quick to insist that Hayden stay in jail and he wouldn't want her spouting such things around the Ambassador. There was nothing she could accomplish at this meeting. Little did he know how many things had changed; she hadn't even had a chance to tell him about the Ambassador, or the resistance, or the letter she'd received from King Naseer. It was his fault though; he'd been an imbecile to consider letting Hayden go and other things had taken a sideline in importance comparatively speaking. Now, she wasn't so sure how she'd tell him. He'd probably chastise her for agreeing to something so momentous without his input.

This time she decided to go early, be there before many of the others. As she approached the council room, however, she noticed something strange, her father's personal guards standing on either side of the door, which was closed. When she grew close they side-stepped, blocking the doorway.

"Vermes, Elias, what is the meaning of this?" she snapped.

"Our pardon, Your Highness," Vermes said, "but your father has ordered a closed meeting solely between himself and the ambassador."

"By the blood of the gods!" she swore. The only sign of surprise they showed at her language was a widening of eyes. "Men, I order you to stand down."

"Your father's authority supersedes your own," Elias replied, "and he specifically stated that you were not to be allowed in and I quote 'no matter how many tantrums she throws'."

"You bloody prick!" she cried, scowling. She'd never liked these men. They believe themselves better than others simply because they were picked by her father to guard him.

"I'm simply repeating your father's words, Your Highness," Elias soothed, failing to conceal his smirk as he gave her a low bow.

"I would have thought my father had taught you when to hold your tongue, but apparently his judgment lacked both at the time he appointed you and when he instructed you in proper etiquette." The men gritted their teeth, but they weren't allowed to talk back to someone of the royal family. "Ah, there, see?" she said sarcastically. "At least he taught you your place."

Only a second later she realized the futility and detriment of taking her frustration out on these men. She sighed.

"I apologize for my insults, Elias, Vermes," she said, gritting her teeth this time. Her prideful streak made apologizing to these despicable men a chore. "I have foolishly taken my frustrations out on you. You have my most sincere apology."

The two seemed mollified at her words, so with a nod, Kalysta moved away, determining to accost her father when he had finished this "closed meeting". He had placed her as the ruler of the country in all but name. But here he was going behind her back. He was simply blind to the severity of this situation, blind to the problems that could arise from releasing Hayden. He couldn't see that releasing Hayden would be just the first in a long line of compromises with Mullingar. She hated to see where that would leave them. 

\------------------------------------

An hour later, she received a messenger telling her that her father wished for her presence in his study. She went immediately. She'd get to the bottom of this.

When she arrived, she stopped in front of his desk and simply stood silent.

"You're dismissed," he said to the guards.

"Have you nothing to say?" he addressed her once they were alone.

"Well, it appears that my opinions and views are no longer welcomed." She wasn't able to keep the petulance from her voice. "It will be better if I hold my silence until asked to speak."

"You're no longer a child to have tantrums like this," her father snapped.

"You called me a child just last evening," she commented mildly, barely keeping her anger in check. "And you've kept me from the council meeting, treating me as a child. Therefore, I pray that you make a decision as to how you wish for me to act, as the child you keep belittling or the adult you raised."

"Oh, dearest one," he sighed, standing from his chair and moving around the desk to her. He pulled her into his arms and held her. "I'm terribly sorry for how all this occurred. It was not my aim to treat you like a child, I swear to you."

Kalysta relented and returned the embrace. She loved him more than she could express. She hoped she'd be as good a ruler as he some day.

"I had to have the private meeting with the Ambassador because I was afraid you would lose your temper with him again," he commented. "But we've come to an agreement."

"Which is?"

"Hayden has been released."

"Already?" she gasped, horrified. "Why wasn't I told of this?"

"You were not told because you would have prevented it," he sighed. "I extended him diplomatic immunity as part of the Ambassador's entourage. This way, he is freed and is on his way back to Mullingar with the extracted promise that he will not return to Elysium ever again."

Kalysta moved from his embrace and to the side, putting her head in her hands. Here it was, the first of many concessions to a bullying nation. "Has it been announced?" she asked into her hands.

"No. Not many know he was arrested in the first place. The Ambassador promised that Mullingar would not take action against us for Hayden's incarceration and Hayden will be reprimanded by his uncle when he returns home."

Kalysta tried not to laugh at that, but she failed, a sardonic laugh escaping her.

"What is so funny?" he father asked.

"If you really think Murdoch will do anything to punish Hayden then you are delusional," she said, shaking her head and looking up to meet his eyes. "He will congratulate him for putting one over on us and then have him help plan the best way to take us down."

"That's a pessimistic view, at best," he snapped. "The Ambassador has promised us certain things and I will make sure those things become an actuality. And do not deign to call me delusional. I was dealing with politics for decades before you were born."

"I am sorry, Father," Kalysta replied solemnly and untruthfully. Things were worse than she feared. "I have let my zealotry for justice cloud my judgment and risk our nation."

"That's okay, my dear one," he said, walking to her and putting a hand on her cheek. "I am glad you are willing to err on the side of justice rather than being willing to take a bribe or thwart what is right as an easy way out of problem."

"Thank you, Father." She looked down. "I only hope I can learn how to set my own views aside in help for the common good."

"That's a very good way to look at it. I pray for the same thing."

"May I be dismissed?" she asked. "There are things I need to attend to with these latest developments."

"Not quite yet," he said. "There is more that was determined in this meeting than just how Hayden was to be handled."

"And?"

"The Ambassador expressed how unhappy he was and how indescribably angry his father would be when he found out that Hayden had been arrested."

"Yes, I'm sure he did," Kalysta said, rolling her eyes.

"He was frank with me and explained that he believed his father would wish to wage war for the actions you took."

"Surely he was jesting."

"No, I'm afraid not," her father said. "He believes that Murdoch would make a move this way. However, with the contingencies we put into place, the Ambassador thinks we can avoid a war."

"And what are these contingencies?"

"You are to wed Prince Niall."

Kalysta gasped, her mouth opening and closing, but she couldn't get any words to come out for a minute. Eventually her voice returned.

"You told me you would do anything to prevent that from happening!" she accused him. "Now, you just offer me up without a fight!"

"I did fight!" he cried. "I fought to keep you out of this, but you did it yourself by arresting Hayden without consulting me first!"

"Oh, so all of this is my fault? Hayden isn't to blame at all?"

"In a manner of speaking, yes," her father said. "You chose the wrong action when you discovered his crime."

"And I was just supposed to ignore something like that?"

"For the greater good, yes!"

"I understand that I may have been foolhardy in my approach, but having me marry Niall? That was supposed to be our last resort, not the first thing you attempt!"

"It wasn't the first! I tried, my daughter, I tried," he said firmly. "I begged the ambassador to persuade his father not to go to war, but he said he would have no control over it. He apologized, but he thought that a marriage would be the only way to prevent a war and full out occupation of Elysium by Mullingar. I'm sorry, Kalysta, I am. Wasn't this your end plan, anyway? You didn't see another way besides marriage!"

She couldn't explain the resistance to him now. Things were set in motion that could not be stopped. Yes, she'd thought marriage the only viable option, but that was before she knew of the resistance! 

She did her best to hold her frustrations inside. "I understand, Father. I have prepared myself for this eventuality for some time."

"Again, your sense of duty becomes you," he pointed out.

"Now, may I be dismissed?" she asked. "I have need of some time alone to gather my thoughts."

"Yes, daughter. I will excuse you from tonight's dinner and allow you to have time to yourself until tomorrow. However, we'll need to write out the entire treaty tomorrow. And I would like your input on that."

"Indeed, father, I will be there. Thank you."

"I'm sorry," he said once more.

"Do not be," she said, still avoiding his gaze. "You did what you had to do."

She left, her mind already racing ahead. There was only one thing to do.

She couldn't marry the cursed Prince, knowing what she knew now; she couldn't and she wouldn't. There were many more things that would happen before she allowed that. She had more options and she would work through them until no more appeared.

It wasn't long before she found herself outside the Ambassador's quarters. She knocked.

The door opened and he stood there, surprised to say the least. Surprised and a little worried it seemed.

"Princess," he said. "Another late-night visit? I hope you don't make this a regular thing. People will begin to talk."

"I would meet with you in the council chambers. We have much to discuss."

"If you are angry at the recent developments, I can assure you that I don't care."

"I am livid," she agreed, "but I wish to discuss further options without my father there. You may bring a chaperone if you wish."

"There is no need," he said quietly, exiting his room.

She turned on her heel and made her way up to the council chambers, the Ambassador following her once more. They entered the room and sat in the exact same seats as before.

"Now, Princess, what is on your mind?" he asked, curiosity breaking through.

"I am leaving Elysium, and you're going to help me."

"Excuse me?" he sputtered. "I believe you just said I was going to help you."

"I did." Her voice was firm. "I'm leaving Elysium for a time and you will take me on your ship."


	17. Rise to the Occasion

"E-excuse me, you want me to take you on my ship and help you escape the country you're supposed to be ruling?" Zayn stuttered incredulously.

"Yes, that's what I said. Do I need to repeat myself or did you catch it that time?"

"I apologize for my inability to grasp this, but I fail to see how running away will benefit the resistance, or even your country for that matter," he answered quietly.

"I'm not running away!" she protested. "I have a purpose for leaving and I will be coming back. I'm bothered that you think so little of me that you believe I'd abandon my people in their hour of need."

"Well, marrying my brother would be enough to make any sane woman run for the hills," he replied darkly.

"While we're on that subject, how on earth did you and my father come to the conclusion that marriage was the best option?" she snapped. "I can understand why my father wants it; he knows nothing of the resistance, but you? You know what's going on and you still agreed to it."

"Are you done yelling at me, Princess?" Zayn asked mildly. "I'm willing to explain myself, but I am the son of a king and I've never taken kindly to people raising their voices to me."

Kalysta opened her mouth with a retort, but bit it back. "Very well," she nodded to him. "You may speak. I apologize for raising my voice to you."

"Ah, there we go," he simpered, giving her a sardonic smile, "we can be civil, can't we. We are on the same team after all."

"I'll take back the apology if you don't get on with it," she warned.

"Oh, very well, don't get your hackles up again." He paused for a moment. "I agreed with the deal for multiple reasons. The first is that your marriage to my brother is what my father wanted in the first place, a diplomatic takeover, so he'll be agreeable to this. The second reason was specifically to benefit the resistance. We need more time to get the other countries involved. A marriage proposal and treaty takes time, a lot of it. You have to travel with your parents to Mullingar to extend the treaty and that gives the resistance extra time to gain its footing. Do you understand my motives?"

"It's ironic that we are working toward the same goal, but going about it in very different ways," Kalysta laughed mirthlessly.

"Whatever do you mean?"

"You are buying time by setting up the marriage, and I'm doing the same by leaving the country," she replied.

"Your big delaying plan is to just avoid the matter entirely?" he clarified. "It still sounds like you're running away."

"I am not!" she scoffed. "You had more than one reason for allowing this marriage farce to be played out as I have multiple reasons for leaving. The first is because it leaves my father at a stalemate. He can't tell anyone I'm gone, so everyone is left waiting, wondering who is making the first move and in what fashion. The second reason I'm leaving is because of what King Naseer wrote in his letter. The resistance need motivating to rise to the occasion and the only way they're going to commit is if someone is there wringing a promise from them. That will be me. They can't ignore the problem if they're faced with it directly. I won't let them. However, I can't go traveling the lands by myself. That's where you come in. You play a main role in the resistance and they'll trust you and your judgment."

He was surprised. "When you say it like that it actually makes sense. What are you going to tell your father?"

"I'm not going to tell him anything," she answered. "He is taking back command in small ways, no longer trusting me with certain matters, so it shouldn't be that difficult for him to receive the mantle back completely. If he announces that I've run away or some such nonsense then Murdoch would most likely strike, seeing as there's not much of another chance for diplomatic invasion. It ties my father down. He has to wait for me to return to start the marriage treaty and to visit Mullingar. Until then, he can announce that I am ill or something along those lines. Meanwhile, I'll be hid in your ship for several days until you leave."

"This is all well and good, but what will I tell my father?" Zayn asked. "He's going to wonder why I'm not still here negotiating a settlement."

"Don't tell him anything," Kalysta said, shrugging. "All he will know is that I am unable to leave my rooms and that you've pulled anchor. He won't know why and I doubt anyone will be able to chart our course, so he won't be able to reach you with a message."

"I suppose," he allowed, "but this is still shaky. Why must you leave?"

"I've already gone over that," she sighed. "The other countries need to see me, have me there in person so they can't ignore the problem anymore. I believe that if I talk to them we can get the resistance on its feet. We've sat idle for too long. As well, my father plans to draft the treaty tomorrow. If I have my way, the resistance will finally be free to rise up and stop Murdoch before that treaty even needs to be drafted.

"I shudder at the idea of marrying your brother the Prince, so I'd rather not let anyone believe it could happen for any length of time."

"I stand by the fact that this plan is very weak," Zayn said, shaking his head. "There is too much that could go wrong."

"Everything that could go wrong has done so already," she pointed out. "If we don't come up with something, your father is going to move on Elysium quicker than we can build up our forces to defend it. The battle will be bloody, but the definite outcome will be another nation under Mullingar's thumb, and the last thing we need is for Murdoch to gain strength. It's our only hope."

"When are you leaving the castle?" Zayn asked next.

"Tonight. I will leave a note in my room and board your ship, hidden, so that he thinks I have left. I will make it seem that I've headed south. You will leave several days later, pretending to be frustrated that negotiations can't continue due to my illness. This way, we won't be departing at the same time and suspicions won't arise as quickly. Even my father will not suspect that I have left with you. We then sail to the north and cross into Cheshire and Velia, convincing the rulers there that now is the time to strike on Mullingar."

"You make it sound simple, but I know my father has spies in every single country," he complained. "They will inform him of my actions and he will not regard my detours to visit the rulers as beneficial. I may lose his trust. As well, we would be seen together in these countries. It's a great risk with no guarantee of reward for our efforts. If anything, this could endanger the resistance."

"All we can do is try."

He ran his hands through his hair, obviously pondering the situation.

"I... I don't know," he confessed. "Would you allow me time to consider the options?"

"There is no time." None of them did. "You have the next minute to decide whether or not you'll help me. I'm leaving either way, but finding someone else I can trust will be much more difficult. I'd rather avoid that if I can."

He leaned forward, putting his elbows on the table and looking at his folded hands in front of him. The minute came and went, but she didn't want to push him. He would arrive at a conclusion in his own time and she couldn't risk irritating him into choosing the wrong one.

"Very well, Princess," he announced, looking up at her finally. "I find that helping you is the only way to give the resistance a chance. Be to my ship by the second hour tomorrow morning. I will ensure that a man I can trust is standing watch. He will help you to a place on the ship."

"Make it the third hour," she interjected. "I have things that need attending to before I leave."

She watched his jaw clench as he seemed to fight back what he wanted to say.

"I will make sure it is as you say," he said through gritted teeth. "I suppose I do not need to impress upon you the importance of remaining unseen as you make your way to my ship?"

"You suppose correctly," she replied. Did he think her an idiot? Probably. They had barely become affable and even knowing he was on the same side, he still irritated her more often than not.

"There is so much that still needs arranging," he said quietly. "Hayden has been released and has already left for Mullingar. If I'm not there to explain to my father what has happened, then we very well might still have a war, especially if you disappear on your father."

"I will take care of Hayden," she said confidently.

"How?"

"I'm not sure you need to be privy to that information."

"Whatever," he sighed. "Make sure you get to my ship unseen, and leave the rest to me."

"How are your acting skills? You'll need to convince my father that you are terribly unhappy at my illness and the delay in proceedings."

"I have enough to be angry about right now," he offered. "I'll be able to do what is needed. The question is will you actually be able to leave your beloved Elysium? The other nations are not quite so idealistic. You'll have a hard time dealing with the other rulers."

"I can hold my own!" Kalysta protested.

"As you wish," he said, rising from his seat. "I am dreadfully uncomfortable with the unpreparedness of this endeavor, but I suppose there's nothing we can do."

Kalysta rose as well. "We will do what we must, as has always been done."

He nodded, bowed slightly and then exited.

The plans were set in place. She would travel with the Ambassador and his men to the other nations. Nothing else could be done to stop Murdoch taking over Elysium, so it was time for the resistance to step up and actually do some good.


	18. A Task and Discretion

Kalysta returned to her room and began preparations. She sincerely hoped that Delia would not be back soon. It would be easier to leave a note for her than to face her questions and ire at leaving.

She grabbed several pairs of undergarments and the nicest of her dresses for when she was meeting the other rulers, but she knew that wearing dresses aboard the ship was impractical. Something else would need to be found, but she wasn't sure where to start. Delia usually fetched such random items as the need arose, along with anything else that Kalysta had not thought to consider. It was at that moment that Kalysta realized how much she relied on Delia for her day-to-day life.

Just as she was thinking this, Delia stepped into the room.

"Going somewhere, milady? Now, I know you wouldn't be running away," she admonished tersely.

"I'm not... running," Kalysta responded carefully.

"What other reason would you have for packing this late at night?"

"I am indeed packing, but my motive is not to run away," Kalysta clarified.

"Oh, I take it you've decided to start cleaning then?" Delia said with sarcasm.

"I am going away for a time, but I will be returning."

"Running off to faraway lands is not the solution to an arranged marriage."

"I would ask how you know about that, but I'm not sure I want to know," Kalysta sniffed.

"Your father sent for me and explained, saying you asked for a day of reflection after learning of his agreement to marry you to the Prince," Delia explained. "That sounded so deceptive and entirely unlike you that I knew something was amiss."

"You're right. However, this is not my solution. I will marry the Prince if necessary, but not until I've exhausted every other option."

"Milady..." Delia began uneasily.

"I am adamant on this, Delia," Kalysta warned. "I will stand firm in my decision. I'll be back. I am not going into permanent exile."

"You always stand firm in a decision," Delia sighed, "but you've hardly been wrong in the past situations."

"You believe I am wrong?"

"I cannot profess to know what drives you to leave, dear Princess, but I can say I am not sure it's for the right reasons."

"Oh, Delia," Kalysta said, stepping forward to pull the older woman into a hug. Delia returned the embrace. "You have always been there for me, and I thank you for that. But this is something I have to do."

Delia sighed before pulling away.

"I suppose there's no way for me to talk you down on this issue, then?" she asked.

"You suppose correctly."

"Very well," she said. "What do you need help with? You're rubbish at packing for yourself."

Kalysta laughed. "You're quite right about that. I know I'll need trousers, but I don't know where to get them. As well... I... I actually do not know what I need beyond that."

It was Delia's turn to laugh.

"Leave that to me," she ordered. "Go to Bill's out the secret passageway. Wear the wig. I'll meet you there with what you need. It will be less suspicious if I'm seen carrying luggage."

"Good," Kalysta replied. "I need to talk to him before I leave tonight anyway."

"Must you leave immediately?"

"Yes," she said quickly. "My disappearance will anger the Ambassador, and I need to be gone before anything can be done and anyone can stop me."

"Do you realize what it will do to the country if you disappear now?" Delia pointed out. "They will crumble. Often, you are a beacon of light to them and they will despair, for they will think you know some danger they don't know about."

"They won't know," Kalysta answered. "You will intercede for me, and Emily will as well."

"And what am I going to say?" Delia protested.

"I will leave a note for my father and he will have to perpetuate the rumor that I am ill, deathly ill. It will halt negotiations for my proposal and I will accomplish what I need to."

"I wish you would tell me what this scheme of yours involves," she complained.

"The fewer who know the better," Kalysta warned, shaking her head. "If it comes to it, I'd rather you not be in danger."

"It's that serious?" Delia breathed.

"Yes."

"Why must you be the one to do it?"

"I cannot explain without telling more than is safe."

Delia shook her head, still in denial.

"If you believe it, then it might be so, but I'm still wary of your decision. There has to be another way."

"I've explored the options in my mind," Kalysta responded gravely, "and Elysium is trapped. There is no other way but this."

Delia paused for a moment and seemed to think.

"I cannot give my blessing, but you are an adult. You can make your decisions. However, I beg you to make sure that you've thought of all the consequences of your actions."

"I can give you complete assurance that I have. It is unavoidable."

"Do as I said, then," Delia said abruptly. "Go to Bill's and wait for me there. Talk to him as you said you needed to do. I'll bring the necessary things and meet you there by the second hour of the morning. Go with care."

Kalysta moved forward once more and held Delia in a tight embrace.

"Thank you for understanding, Delia," she whispered.

"Oh, milady," Delia sighed, "I don't understand at all, but I'm willing to trust you."

"Again, thank you."

"Get moving. If you plan to leave before first light then we don't have much time."

"Yes," Kalysta agreed, stepping back once more. She grabbed the blonde wig from her drawers and quickly tucked her brown hair up to be covered.

Next, she removed a piece of parchment from her desk and scrawled a note to her father on it.

~~Father,

You won't understand why I have done this, but I have gone to help in certain capacities in a situation that I cannot explain to you at this time. I can tell you I only leave to help Elysium. You are angry at my disappearance, certainly, and I am sure that any trust you bestowed me in the past years will be erased with this single act, but I am afraid it is necessary. I will be back as soon as I can manage.

I am aware that you cannot announce that I have left the country unsanctioned, so for the sake of face I advise that you spread about that I am ill and cannot leave my room. Put the marriage idea on hold and tell the Ambassador that you do not believe going through with the treaty is a good idea with my health so obviously in jeopardy. He will be angry, but everything will be put on hold until such a time as I am deemed well again. Be sure to say that it spreads very easily. Delia can hold the strictest confidences, so only allow her to enter the room as my caregiver. It is known she has medicinal knowledge.

I will remind you now that I love you. I hope you will forgive me in time.

Your Loving Daughter,

~K~~

Sealing it with wax and her signet, she put it on the bed and then it really was time to leave. As Lyra, she turned and left Delia in the room, making her way to the secret passage out of the castle.

\---------------------------

Her insistent knock on the pub door went unnoticed at first, so she beat her fist against it more forcefully.

"Hours are over, you pestilences!" she heard William call from inside.

"Lyra needs assistance!" she called back sweetly.

The door flew open and William's form stood there, backlit by the lanterns from inside.

"Come in, ya fool," he said. He moved aside and she stepped in, barely making it before he closed the door forcefully behind her, applying several locks as well.

"What're you doing here?" he asked quietly. "Is there something wrong? How is Miss Delia?"

"Delia is quite well, actually," Kalysta responded, shedding the wig.

"No, no," he said quickly. "Leave it on. I'm not sure about some of the staff right now."

"Very well," she sighed, returning the itching nuisance to her head.

"Now, if there's nothing wrong with Miss Delia, why are you here so late tonight?"

"I have a job for either you or Elliott," Kalysta said. "It is a delicate subject and has to be done by someone completely trustworthy. You are the only man who has what is needed."

"I can't be promising anything, Miss Lady," he said. "That's not any type of disrespect, but you know the nature of my work." Miss Lady was his commoner way of saying 'milady'.

"I understand and that is why it will be taking place well away from your establishment."

"What is it you want done?"

"There is a man that was here the other night, a Mullingan by the name of Hayden, who I have a special interest in," Kalysta began quietly.

"I thought you had him arrested for rape? That took place here, if you will recall the other night. What do you need from me that has to do with that bastard?"

"I need discretion... and for you to perform an assignment that will save the lives of many a person in Elysium. There is much that is dependent on the outcome of this. You will be well compensated."


	19. May the Gods Bless

Kalysta explained the task and had just finished when Delia arrived.

"It will done as you say, Miss Lady," William said, standing up to unlock the door for Delia. "Miss Delia," he gushed as she stepped over the threshold, "it is an immense pleasure to see you so many times in a week."

"Bill, you flattering fool, there's no time for that now," Delia admonished, blushing. "There are more important things that need doing."

It was only at that time that Kalysta noticed the travel case Delia was lugging behind her. She couldn't take that on a ship! That was too much! However, Delia must think she was traveling by land and could acquire a horse. Kalysta would leave her thinking that. If people thought she would go by land, even trustworthy people, then it would leave her true intents safe.

"Miss Lady is leaving," William gathered, though Kalysta hadn't mentioned it.

"Yes," Delia responded. "Milady, I have the clothes you requested, as well as anything else I thought you might need." She moved the travel case from behind her.

Kalysta took it and tested the weight. How had Delia carried this all the way down from the castle?

"I cannot say how thankful I am for this, Delia," she expressed.

"Just be sure you come back soon," her maid said, showing the first sign of strain at the thought of Kalysta leaving. Her face pinched a bit and she looked down at her hands.

"It won't be forever, Delia," Kalysta promised softly. "Take care of the family for me?"

"Of course, milady."

Kalysta stepped around the bag and gave Delia another hug. It was a bitter moment. Leaving would be hard, and it was at that moment it hit her that she wouldn't be saying goodbye to her family. She wondered what her father would tell the rest of them: the truth or the lie she'd needed to conjure?

"My thoughts go with you," Delia said next to her ear, a deep sadness evident in her voice.

"I will think of you on my journey as well," Kalysta returned.

They stepped back again and looked at each other for a moment.

"Do not trust anyone," Delia instructed. "There will be many who are evil in the guise of innocence."

"I understand."

"Bill," Delia said, turning to him, "would you see milady safely out of the city tonight?"

"I wouldn't have it another way," he answered.

"Don't go back to the castle tonight, Delia," Kalysta commanded. "Say that I gave you the night off, that way you can't be blamed for your failure to stop me. Send for Emily as well. I want you both safe here until tomorrow."

"I will do as you say."

"Come, Miss Lady," William said. He hefted the bag up and headed to the door.

Kalysta followed in order to prevent prolonging the farewells and endangering her mission. She couldn't look at Delia again or leaving would be impossible. It was already taking everything in her to walk to the door and step through it when William held it open.

The night enveloped them, as the inn's door shut behind her with a sense of finality. For the first time, she felt fear rise in her. Before, action and preparation had distracted her from thinking about what she was actually going to do. She was putting her trust in the Ambassador, a man she'd known for less than a week. The idea terrified her, but there was no turning back now.

She followed William for a time until they reached a stable. They stepped inside and were greeted by the soft whickers and snorts of the horses.

"I'll give you a horse for your travels so that you won't be identified with one of your father's royal mounts," he said, going into one of the stalls. He patted the horse, a dappled gelding, gently, talking softly to calm the large beast.

"Thank you," Kalysta whispered back.

"This is Starling," William said by way of introduction. "He is a little nondescript, so he won't draw attention. What he lacks in appearance he makes up for in temperament. He's even-mannered and reliable. He won't toss you or anything, and he's had training in battle and on ships. I'm giving you my best in the hopes that you'll bring each other back safely."

"I am humbled you trust me with your best horse," Kalysta replied honestly.

He simply nodded and went about his business, inspecting Starling's hooves and putting on the leather traveling saddle and equipment. It took a fair bit of time, but Kalysta didn't rush him. Having a good horse would be invaluable.

"I will lead you from the city," he said finally. "Which way will you go?"

"I go south," she answered. Westtown, and the Ambassador's ship, were to the southwest, but she could head that way once she was out of the city. And again, no one would be sure the exact way she had headed.

William loaded her luggage onto the back of the saddle. Then, leading Starling from the stall, he walked out of the stable once more. Kalysta followed at a safe distance. Once outside, she stepped around Starling to walk next to William.

Without another word, they followed the roads south out of the Royal City of Haven, her home, and the place she'd spent her entire life. She would be leaving the country for the first time, and in the company of a single person she knew little about and many others of which she knew nothing. Fear gripped her again, and she had to fight the urge to turn around and flee back to the castle, back to the familiar life she'd always known. Giving in to the fear would be the end of Elysium and that familiar life, so she persevered, balling her hands into fists and walking determinedly beside William.

Upon reaching forest on the outskirts, William stopped. He handed her the reins and then stood, shifting back and forth on his feet, as if uncomfortable.

"Miss Lady," he began, "I'm not an speech-maker or a man of big words, but I pray that you'd listen to what I say to you now."

"Of course," Kalysta promised.

"I can't lie or say I like what you're doing, leaving right now, but if you've got an honest reason then I trust you. You've always done good for us, the common people, and I can see you care. But don't lose yourself on this journey of yours. Bad things can happen on the road to finding answers; you can make mistakes that change your life and you can't go back to fix them. I warn you because I think our people, our country rests on you. Take that as I mean. You're needed here. Don't be away long.

"And go with care."

His simple wisdom and obvious concern touched Kalysta, for he had never been one to talk about such things. As an inn and barkeep he probably had more wisdom than anyone would give him credit for and he'd deemed her worthy of bestowing it upon. Again, it made her realize how much she was leaving behind on this venture.

"Your words warm my heart, William," she breathed. "I will be sure to remember them while I'm away. Care for Delia, please, because things will not be well for some time."

"I will put her care above my own, as always."

"Thank you, for your care for her, and for your discretion in the task I gave you. I expect a full recounting of your success when I return."

"I'll do that. Elliott as well."

"Until I return, then, William."

"May the gods bless, Miss Lady."

He turned and walked back toward the city.

And she was alone.


	20. Zayn's POV

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This is from Zayn's POV and reviews some of the previous chapters' situations.

February 15th, Kalysta's Birthday

Zayn walked into the banquet hall, aware he was interrupting the Princess's birthday, but it was important to give the appearance of being as demanding and self-centered as the rest of the Royal family of Mullingar. He was dancing along a dangerous line and one slip up put him in the gallows, and the rest of Dalitrise in peril. No one could afford that, so here he was, taking a risk to get one more critical ally. Everything depended on the outcome of his venture here.

He had come to share the existence of the resistance with the Princess, in the hopes that she wasn't the type to betray under the idea of getting in Murdoch's good graces. Her cooperation was crucial, because he needed her to agree to the marriage proposal in order to make time for the resistance to come to full power. As well, if she considered it, with no knowledge of the resistance, then the marriage was the most practical move anyway. But there could be trouble. His counterparts had warned him of her stubbornness and petulance. Oh, by the gods, he hoped they were wrong.

The Royal family of Elysium came into view. Strong, wise King Jonathan frowned at Zayn for a moment before schooling his expression into one of welcome benevolence. Obviously, he was a better actor than his daughter, whose expression, visible even from a distance, told Zayn that he was a vile enemy, an interloper and obviously not welcome.

As he neared, Zayn captured the full scope of the Princess. She was stunning, though not yet in the full flower of womanhood. The stark contrast of her pale skin and black-brown hair was its own fascination. However, the true defining feature was her eyes, close to the dark shade of her hair and glistening with a shrewd intelligence that made him feel as if he were on display, all his thoughts free to her scrutiny. They were piercing, to say the least. It was a struggle to move his attention back to the King and Queen, pretending to pay his respects.

Decorum dictated he greet Jonathan and Fayette first, but the minute he could he brought his gaze back to the Princess. He took her hand in his, recognizing that it was as smooth and soft as he had expected from royalty, but the magnetism of her eyes was compounded ten-fold the moment their hands touched. Leaning down, he pressed his lips to the silky warmth of her hand and it felt as if a fire had ignited beneath them. 

This was dangerous, more dangerous than the resistance, more dangerous than anything he could have forseen.

\--- --- --- --- --- --- --- --- --- --- --- ---

February 16th (following Chapter 17)

Zayn went to find Louis the moment he left the council chambers and his most recent meeting with the Princess. Louis was the only one he could trust on such short notice. And Louis had to be there at the ship before the Princess arrived.

It worried him that she was traveling the roads to the sea all by herself, and at night too. There was more of this that relied on her than he wanted to admit to himself. If anyone could pull the nations of Dalitrise together, it would be her, with her strength, her fire, and her ability to get what she wanted. He couldn't fathom how she'd managed to make him agree with her. She'd arrived at his room, making demands and throwing him so far from what he knew, from what he was comfortable with. He'd been warned of her abrasive manners, but no one thought to tell him of her commanding presence, the way she filled a room and made it so that no other purpose was important but hers.

He felt dragged along the current of her headlong rush. What had happened to his plan? He had set the plan in stone, but somehow she'd carved something new and pulled him into it.

Louis' room was next to Zayn's, so Zayn knew the way back from the council chambers. He arrived and knocked impatiently.

"Go away!" a voice from inside called.

"Louis, if I have to come in there, neither of us will be happy," Zaid said, exasperated. "Just open the blasted door already."

Louis pulled the door open quickly and squeezed out, not allowing Zayn into the room.

"Let's talk in yours," he said.

Zayn rolled his eyes and walked to his room, Louis following. He closed the door behind them and crossed his arms, giving Louis an expectant look.

"What?" Louis protested. "I had company! Let me tell ya, mate, the women here really like foreigners with blue eyes and-"

"Can we focus?" Zayn asked, cutting off Louis' rambling.

"Course, what's going on?"

"We have a change of plan."

Louis grew serious at this. "What's the problem? I thought things were going well?"

"I need you to go to the ship, tonight," Zayn replied. "Right now, actually."

"What happened?"

"We had our plans, but we didn't factor the Princess's autonomy and intelligence into them."

"Blast it all!" Louis exclaimed. "Has she done something stupid again?"

"Put aside your prejudices and listen," Zayn said angrily.

Louis nodded unhappily.

"She is going to travel the rest of Dalitrise to meet the other rulers."

"What? When is she leaving? Can we do anything to stop her?"

"We aren't going to stop her, Louis." Zayn paused, unsure how to say the next words. "She has a purpose and... we're going to help her."

"Have you lost your bloody mind, mate?" Louis yelped. "How is her leaving to travel the continent going to help the plan? She'll ostracize the other rulers the minute she opens her fire-brand mouth!"

"I'll be there to temper her," Zayn responded quietly.

"What are you doing?" Louis protested. "This isn't going to solve any problems in Dalitrise!"

"We are losing, Louis!" Zayn cried. "Can't you see that? The other nations won't commit to anything! We need the Princess to shake them out of their complacency. They need a rallying point, someone who they can sympathize with and who will make them see the big picture outside of themselves."

"How is this going to help?" Louis asked. "I'm serious. All we're doing is delaying!"

"Yes! And a delay is what we need! The other nations have to commit fully before the resistance can do what is necessary. If they don't, then Elysium has a bit more time before it succumbs to Murdoch."

"Why delay the inevitable?"

"Why have you given up already?" Zayn asked, frustrated. "Your pessimism is alarming."

"Look at us!" Louis replied, losing his carefree attitude entirely. "Remember what we have to work with!? Liam is unfit to rule Wolvecaster let alone take it to war, Cheshire never has been interested in politics, Velia won't give an indication either way, and Bradford is under Murdoch's thumb! What is pessimistic about the truth? We have no hope of anyone backing us! That is inevitable. The Princess isn't going to do anything to change that. Her personality is petulant and puts people off. If anything, she'll make it worse!"

"You're just going to have to trust me," Zayn replied. "I recognize your concern and point of view, but this is a decision I've already made."

Louis sighed and seemed to grow smaller in his defeat. It took him a moment, but he finally shook his head, as if to clear it and looked Zayn in the eye.

"Alright, I'll do as you say," he acquiesced. That was the best part of Louis: he trusted Zayn to make the decisions, even though he possessed more authority than even Zayn did. "Why am I going back to the ship, then?"

"We will be taking her aboard the Partheos with us to travel to the other nations. That's the simplest way for her to avoid detection as she travels. She's left already, in disguise, for the ship. I need you to be there before her to be on watch tomorrow night when she arrives. No one else is to see her until I've had a chance to rid myself of the Mullingan men and talk with the others."

"Understood," Louis mumbled uncomfortably.

"Thank you, mate."

"At least I'll have a legitimate reason for not seeing that woman in my room again," he laughed, already gaining his levity back. "I won't even have to make an excuse."

Zayn shook his head in exasperation.

"You'll need to go now," he instructed, "and hurry. She's not going to be as skilled a rider, but don't take chances on timing. I'd ask you to find her and accompany her, but..."

"But you know I'd refuse," Louis cut in.

"Precisely."

"I'll just be off then," he said, moving to the door.

There was no going back now.

Zayn sat on his bed and put his face in his hands. Everything was relying on what they accomplished on this trip. Would they gain the help of the other nations or would they simply delay their doom as Louis suggested?


	21. Hold On

Kalysta simply stood there, staring into the unknown. Another step would take her into a time out of her control. Moving forward, she would have to relinquish control and go blind, with no structured plan. All she could do was plead with the other rulers and hope they would give their promise of support finally.

She turned and looked at Starling. He stood there calmly, waiting for her to take the lead. She reached out a hand and rubbed his nose gently, letting him become familiar with her touch. Eventually, she climbed into the saddle and stared out before her once more. It was time.

She headed south, walking Starling in a stream to hide her his tracks. The nature of the mission meant she couldn't allow anyone to follow where she'd gone. It irked her that she had to go so slowly, but she didn't want to run Starling ragged so she kept him at a walk.

It was peaceful, this. After everything going on back at the castle, there was nothing that felt better than getting away and not having to do something constantly. No one was bothering her and she wasn't having to answer for what she was doing. For once, she had made her own decision, in spite of her father's wishes, and she would stick to it.

Of course, the exhaustion of the past few days caught up with her as she continued. It was the worst time to have her wits dulled, because the dangers of the road were very real and very apparent. Any traveler could face problems, but a woman alone in particular.

Hoping to change appearance and look nondescript, she stopped and washed the remaining makeup from her face in the stream. Then, she took the blonde wig off, put it in the bag, and took out a shirt. She used this to cover her hair and provide a type of hood to obscure her face.

She remounted and continued, fighting sleep and gravity's pull on her eyelids.

\--- --- --- --- --- --- --- --- --- --- --- --- --- --- --- --- --- --- --- --- --- --- ---

Starling's snort woke her. He made the noise again, and she shook herself into alertness again. He'd stopped. She looked around and a moment later he whickered. To her horror, another horse neighed in response.

"Well, well, well, lads!" a man's voice called from the darkness. "It looks like someone didn't listen when their mum told them not to travel after dark."

A chorus of laughter followed, echoing from all around her. She was surrounded. She looked, but the darkness was deep, hiding them all. How could she be so stupid? How could she have let herself relax enough to fall asleep?

A torch flared up, held by a roughly-dressed man. It shone brightly enough to give her a view of about twenty men, arrayed around her.

"My goodness that's a nice horse!" the man said, nudging his horse forward. "And it's weighted down so much! What a problem, lads! What do you say we help out this wastrel in unloading her horse? It's not good to make horses carry too much."

Cat-calls and whistles filled the air all around. Several men laughed and called encouragement to the obvious leader of the band. Kalysta tried to control her breathing as fear gripped her.

"Now, now, men," she said uneasily. "There's no need to be doing that. I'm just traveling back to Westtown after making my petition before the Crown. Let me return in peace and do your business with someone who can afford it."

The snap of a twig made her turn her head sharply and in the process the top covering her hair slipped off, exposing her face.

"Ah!" the man exclaimed, "a young noblewoman! Don't fill us with those lies. Why would a young noble be traveling all on their lonesome? Not even the men attempt that. And you a woman? Either you're really stupid or there's something else going on."

Her mind raced, trying to come up with a realistic story that would scare them off. "My hired men are meeting me up ahead," she responded, blustering to sound brave. "I foolishly left in the night in order to reach them earlier."

"Foolish is exactly how I'd describe it, lady," the man replied. "Now, I'm a big supporter of learning, so how about we teach you lesson? We take your horse and supplies. That will teach you not to make such foolish mistakes in the future. Also, me and my men haven't had food in a day or so and we're starving. We need those supplies more than you do. I'm not without my kindnesses, though lady, so we'll leave ye unharmed. Is that agreeable?"

"Absolutely not!" Kalysta protested. She didn't trust them. No bandit would leave a lone traveler alive to report the theft. Time to put up a front. "I don't have anything else! I am a widow, and I lost everything to pay my husband's gambling debts."

"You're a little young to be a widow, lady, if what I can see of your face is anything to judge by."

"Death has no concept of age. It simply takes."

"Enough!" another man interrupted. "We're wasting time! Let's get this over with and go!"

"José, patience!" the first man ordered. "There's something off about this situation and I plan to find out what it is."

She was stuck. What would they do? How could she get out of this? As she looked around she could see she was surrounded, about ten men on horses making a fence about her.

Further contemplation was interrupted as one of the bandits suddenly dropped sideways off his horse, falling to the ground with a thud. Another fell next to him, and this time she caught the flash of a knife as it hit the man's neck. She spun around and watched as another man fell with a cry, an arrow in his chest.

"Attack!" the leader called. "Scatter! Meet back at the warren!"

Kalysta cowered against Starling as the thundering of hooves around her sounded the escape of the bandits. She clutched the horse's reins and leaned in close.

Strangely, a different set of hooves came toward her, announcing the arrival of someone else; her rescuer, perhaps?

The newcomer leaped from his horse and stopped on the other side of Starling.

He started pulling and tugging at the ropes holding her luggage on. Was this another bandit, scaring away the competition and swooping in on his own?

"No!" she shouted as he tugged again. "Don't touch that!"

"Calm yourself, Princess," he hissed. His blue eyes flashed at her shocked look and he continued, "Yes, I know who you are! I'm checking to make sure your gear is stowed properly!" He moved away again and bounded back onto his horse. "Come here!" he called, holding out a hand. She stayed where she was. "Name's Louis; I'm with Zayn!" he rushed. "Get over here! We have to make a run for it! Just take my hand, damnable woman!"

Once more, she went against her proper judgment and grasped his palm firmly. She seemed to fly as he yanked her onto his horse behind him.

"Hold on," he ordered. "We're not stopping 'til we reach Westtown."

He reached over to grab Starling's reins and kicked his heels with a "Haw!"

The horse lurched forward beneath them and she clutched at his shirt. They were off at a pell-mell run.

"I said hold on, blast you!" he yelled. "If you take a tumble I'm not coming back!"

She wrapped her arms around his torso and clutched her hands together tightly, pushing her face against his back.

What had she gotten herself into?


	22. Woman in Trousers

The thundering of the horses' hooves deafened her and the jarring of the ride numbed her into a place where time no longer existed. Eventually, the man (Louis?) pulled on the reins, bringing his horse and Starling to a halt. He slid down and reached for her, yanking her off the horse after him. She stumbled, unable to gain her footing, before he steadied her.

"We run from here," he said, moving away toward Starling. He removed her travel case and pulled out several bags from it, tying them to his horse's saddle before replacing the case back on Starling's saddle.

"Excuse me, what?" Kalysta asked, having finally gained her equilibrium once more.

"I'm redistributing your clutter so that the horses can trot behind us while we run," he replied, not even answering the right question. "Black needs a rest from our weight, and this won't be as much trouble for them."

"I see you're as unimaginative in naming horses as you are inconceivably rude in your treatment of human beings."

"First, Princess, I didn't name the horse," he sighed, "and second, stop complaining. You'll need to save your breath for running."

"I can't run."

"Of course you can," he countered. Faster than she realized he could move, he had stepped forward, whipped out a blade, and had slashed a tear in her skirt. "There, now tear it to the ground and pin it up, so that you won't trip over it as we run."

She stumbled backward away from him and his knife until she tripped and fell heavily.

"Oh, by the gods, woman!" he exclaimed, moving forward to help her up.

She backward crawled further away from him.

"I've had enough of your help, thank you very much!" she protested, gathering herself to stand on her own. "If you would stop assuming you know what I'm going to say, this would go a whole lot better!" She grumbled at the large tear in the middle of her skirt now

"We don't have time for your talking."

"I can't go on like this anymore!" she protested. "I've had next to no sleep the past week and it's wearing me down. We can keep moving, but I won't be running. You can threaten to leave or actually leave, I don't care! I'd rather face the bandits, frankly."

"Fine," Louis complained, "we'll take things slower on foot, but we'll keep moving."

She didn't respond. She just walked over to his horse and dug through one of the bags until she pulled out the pair of trousers that Delia had packed for her. It took her a couple of seconds to slip them on under her skirts, but once she did she removed the petticoats and outer skirt.

"There," she said finally. "That's a better alternative to destroying a good dress, isn't it?"

"You're a woman and you're going to wear trousers?" he asked, slightly appalled.

"You're worse than your master and my nobles," she snapped. "What someone wears does not make them who they are."

"Zayn is not my master," Louis hissed. "Now, let's go." He grabbed his horse's reins and set off at a brisk walk.

She grabbed Starling's reins and followed suit.

\--- --- --- --- --- --- --- --- ---

As they walked, the sun rose behind them, bringing warmth and drying the dew from the grass. Even with this, her slipper-like shoes were soaked from walking all night. It was uncomfortable and she was sure she'd have a blister before they reached Westtown.

"Are we ever going to stop for food?" she asked around an hour later.

"Are you ever going to stop complaining?" he countered.

"I asked a simple question, sir!" she protested. "I can eat while I walk if that's what's necessary."

"Well, if you can eat while walking then you don't need to ask me for permission," he said over his shoulder.

This man was definitely starting to irritate her. She had thought the Ambassador was the only one with the talent to annoy her this exceptionally, but she was obviously wrong.

She kept Starling walking, but slowed enough to step next to the horse and rummage through her bags for food. Delia had placed bread and cheese in one, which was much better than nothing. Kalysta stayed silent as she walked, eating for a moment, but as she watched Louis moving ahead her curiosity got the better of her.

"Where are you from, sir?" she asked.

"Who's to say I'm not from Mullingar?"

"You're much too dark-skinned for that," she commented. "I've known too many Mullingans, and they all have skin as pale as mine. And you sound nothing like one. They lose their 'g's, while you do not."

"Does it matter all that much, Princess?" he sighed.

She stepped a bit faster to walk next to him.

"Yes, it does," she said. "I'm taking a huge risk, traveling away and trusting everything to your master. Is it so wrong to desire to know whether the people I'm to travel with can be trusted?"

"For the last time, he's not my master!" Louis cried.

"How am I supposed to know? You work with him, you take orders from him; isn't that what a master does?"

Louis pinched the bridge of his nose between his thumb and finger, obviously attempting to calm himself.

"My daughter doesn't even ask this many questions," he grumbled, releasing his nose to glare at her.

"You have children? What are their names?"

"Shut it," he ordered, looking away. "If you can talk this much then that must mean you're recovered enough to pick up the pace. Would you care to start running?"

"I'd rather not."

"Then for the love of the gods, stay silent."

She subsided into very exasperated quiet, pondering who on earth this mysterious man was who obviously wasn't Mullingan or Bradian and gave orders as if there was no doubt in his mind that they would be obeyed. He was a conundrum that she was determined to figure out. She didn't trust him either. Maybe it was his attitude, or his quick diversion from her questions, but something to hide meant something that could endanger her. He would need to be watched for sure.

\--- --- --- --- --- --- --- --- --- --- --- --- ---

"Alright, we need to move more quickly or we won't make Westtown by this evening," he said several hours later. "We'll ride again now that the horses have had time to catch their breath."

Kalysta didn't argue, she simply paused and swung into Starling's saddle. She welcomed the rest for her legs. It'd been some time since she'd had to walk this much. She was by no means a weakling, but she could feel the events of the past few days weighing her down in exhaustion. Louis was only a moment later in pulling himself up onto Black's saddle. She watched him from her position in line behind him. Even in the saddle he seemed to have a regal bearing. He had to be at least a noble, but from where? Wolvecaster and Cheshire held similar accents and coloring. She was inclined to think the former, since his height would not land him very high in the social climate of Cheshire, where being tall was seen as a sign of nobility.

She kept these thoughts to herself, lest she press him further into anger.

"Are you ready?" he asked, looking back at her. She nodded.

He dug his heels into Black's sides, prompting the horse to jump into a run. Kalysta did the same, holding tightly to Starling's reins as the gelding leaped forward, quickly catching up to Louis and the mare.


	23. Ignorance and Beggars

obably be best if you put your hair up into a cap or something,” he commented. “No matter how idealistic you are, I can tell you that the common people will still look at you with horror and disdain if they see a woman in trousers. It’s better if we can disguise you as a young boy or something.”

“I don’t believe I have a cap, sir,” she commented, choosing to ignore the fact that he’d essentially said all that kept her from looking like a boy was long hair and a skirt.

Louis grumbled for a moment before saying, “I’ll buy one from a farmer before we get too much farther.”

As promised, he made her stay in a grove of trees while he bartered with a farmer. She watched as he talked. Oddly, the farmer did not seem threatened by Louis’ foreign appearance and speech. Louis said something and the farmer actually laughed! They bantered for a moment before Louis patted the man’s arm and shook his hand. He then waved over his shoulder as he headed back toward the grove she was hidden in.

“Did you know him?” she asked as he approached.

“Of course not,” he replied. “Never met the bloke.”

“How did you get on so well then?”

“Told him my woman was hiding in this grove because she’d had a bad coloring job done on her hair and didn’t want to be seen,” he said, smirking at her. “So I asked if he had a cap you could borrow until you get it fixed. He said his wife had the same problem the first time she used willow bark on her hair and we had a good chuckle about it.”

She rolled her eyes. “So you got the cap?”

“Of course,” he scoffed. “What do you take me for?” He pulled a worn brown one from his coat and handed it to her.

It was going to be tough getting all of her hair up into the hat as it was a young boy’s small one, but she’d have to try. Using the sinew band she wrapped her curls up on top of her head as best she could before pulling the cap over them.

Louis looked at her for a second.

“Well, it’s definitely not going to be a great disguise, but we’ll just hope no one looks at you closely.”

“Marvelous.” She took a little bit of hope in his words.

As they rode and the day wore on, the farms and buildings became more prominent, signifying their approach upon Westtown. Kalysta was struck by the number of buildings that seems to be abandoned or burned. Almost every other building they came upon was afflicted.

“What has happened?” she called aloud. Louis slowed their pace until the horses moved at a brisk walk. “We’ve had no word of a fire this widespread, or an illness that would cause this level of devastation, not for fifteen years.”

“Of course not,” Louis commented. “This wasn’t one fire, but many. And the people chose to leave their homes in search of a more stable and safe residency.”

“Explain, please,” she inquired stiffly.

“Those bandits you… encountered? They aren’t the only ones or even the most active. In fact, the ones that accosted you were at least native Elysian. Most have come up from Mullingar to raid since the fiscal climate is so hazardous and despairing.”

“I beg your pardon?” she gasped. “We received no word of large bandit raid, Mullingan or native Elysian!”

“Why would they continue sending for aid when it stopped coming?”

“Stop talking in riddles!” she cried. Her voice was such that it carried.

“Quiet, Princess!” he hissed, reining Black to a halt. She stopped Starling when they drew up next to the man. “Part of accomplishing this venture is keeping your absence a secret. If you raise suspicions or draw attention to us, that’s not going to happen.

“Now, you need to listen and stop letting what you know, or think you know, interfere with what I tell you.”

She stayed silent, staring at him and praying to the gods that things were better than she was supposing.

“In talking to the locals on our way to your Royal City, I learned that these raids started several years ago. Initially, the people sent word and were rewarded with help from the Crown. However, more recently, no word returned and when representatives appeared before the King, they were told that no reinforcements could be spared to stop such problems, as the threat of Mullingar’s forces was more extreme, and all soldiers were needed in the Royal Army. These people were left to defend themselves. I don’t know who is responsible, but perhaps it’s a good thing you left that castle and saw what’s really going on in Elysium.”

Kalysta remained silent, shaking her head and trying to come to terms with the fact that her country might not be what she thought it was. The very name Elysium meant paradise, yet their own people were suffering with no help from the Royal Family. It made her consider how much her father had been keeping from her, how much she might be ignorant of what was actually happening in the realms. Everything seemed to have been fed through a sieve, and she was only receiving select portions of the information.

“I… did not know,” she commented, her voice grave.

“Yes, there’s a lot you are not aware of,” Louis grumbled darkly. “That’s why I think this entire journey you’re determined to take is a farce.”

He heeled his horse forward at a walk.

“Then why did you agree to it?” she called, moving Starling to follow once more. She moved him up alongside Black.

“I trust Zayn,” he answered matter-of-factly. “He has much to risk and lose in this undertaking. If he’s willing to take that and still go through with it, then he must think it’s worth it.”

“I must go see the other rulers,” Kalysta responded. “We two haven’t met under the best of circumstances, or terms, but I pray that you believe me. No matter the condition of this country or my ignorance thereof, I love Elysium and its people. Life under Murdoch and Mullingar will be ten times worse than anything happening in Elysium now, so I beg that you help me. Elysium can’t stand against Murdoch, when he has his mighty troops in Mullingar and can order King Naseer to send Bradian men. No one can face that… not even Wolvecaster,” she added.

Louis’ head shot over to look at her and her suspicions were confirmed. His reaction to her words were enough to tell her that he was surely from Wolvecaster.

He looked forward again and stayed quiet for a moment.

“I’ll do what I can,” he said. “It’s not going to be some pleasure cruise or leisure trip, though. We’re going to have to move fast, and reach each place swiftly, even over land or this entire thing was a waste.”

“Whatever it takes, I’ll do what I must,” she answered, solemn.

“I hope you remember that when we’re riding at twice this pace across Cheshire. King Harry’s Royal City of Quintus is further inland than yours.”

“It won’t be difficult to remind myself what I’m fighting for, especially after seeing what is happening under my very nose.”

Louis simply nodded and nudged Black’s flank with his heel to encourage Black into a canter. As always, Kalysta followed.

Their entrance into Westtown went unnoticed, much to her relief. There were so many people moving about on the roads and streets, amongst the houses, that the two of them were mostly ignored. Kalysta was surprised to see how full the city was.

“I can’t believe this,” she admitted. “Did all those people flee from their homes and move here?”

“Yes,” Louis said. “The more people there are, the more protection refugees have. Large numbers are an obvious deterrent to bandits and thugs. Sure, there is more petty crime in a large town, but full-out destruction isn’t present and they feel safer.”

She tried not to stare around wide-eyed, but it was difficult. The last time she’d visited Westtown had been as a young girl and it had been clean, productive, and spacious. Now it was obvious that people were living in squalor and she even caught glimpses of beggars outside the richer establishments. She ate her food and tried not to feel guilty for having what many of these people did not possess. Through all of this, the two of them continued through the city and night began to fall. She was trying not to look suspicious, but knew if she was trying too hard and cast furtive glances around as she would like, then she’d blow their cover immediately. So she mostly kept her head down or straight ahead, and watched Louis closely.

Though nighttime should have slackened the pace, the city continued to be a hive of activity. People were bustling and jostling each other. Lanterns on the street kept the footing visible, but Kalysta still didn’t trust this town in the dark.

How could this have possibly happened? Westtown wasn’t that far from the Royal City. It just proved how much had gone sour in the country that she’d been kept ignorant of. And it was no matter of an accident that so much was left out of her information gathering. Her father must have something planned that he knew she would disapprove of immensely.

She was exhausted. Even being in the town, it took the better part of four hours to get to the docks where the ships were moored. The time they had gained by moving so quickly was lost traversing the streets and avoiding stepping on the foot-travelers. Throughout that time, she took in as much as possible while keeping her head down. She did notice that people seemed to think they had good money, because several persistent beggars followed after their horses for a time, their pleas haunting her as they spoke of hungry children and sick wives.

“Don’t listen to them,” Louis commented.

“They’re in such an unfortunate positions,” she said. “Why wouldn’t I listen to them?”

“Not all of them lie, but oftentimes they will elaborate stories to get sympathy and more money thereby.”

“Their lives are horrible enough without homes or jobs, why would they need extra sympathy?”

“Once you see the downtrodden often, they become a backdrop,” he sighed, “another part of the street that you ignore as you go on your way. They come up with ways to prevent being ignored.”

She turned for a second to look behind her at a beggar on the corner, who was sitting hunched down with a blanket and not looking at the passersby.

“It makes me want to bring the Royal Treasury here and pass it out these people,” she whispered turning back to face forward. The images haunted her, especially the beggar children she saw.

“Some are drunks and the money would just go to the taverns.”

“But surely not all!” she protested.

“Of course not,” he said. “It would be foolish to just hand them money, though. Instead, open places that provide free food for those who need it and your money will be well spent.”

“Who are you?” she asked fervently. “You seem to have an intimate idea of how to properly provide authority in these kinds of situations.”

“It doesn’t matter,” he said brusquely, turning away from her. And he was silent until they reached the docks.

“Which ship is yours?” she asked finally.

“Oh, we’re not docked,” he commented. “The ship is much too large to bring in here. Your crafts are smaller, more like fishing vessels. And you have no military fleet, which, I’m surmising, is why your docks are so small.

“No, we’ll hire a man to take us out, because we’ll need something larger than a dinghy to bring the horses in.”

“We’re bringing the horses with us?”

“Indeed,” he supplied. “How else would we use them once we reach Cheshire? Is your horse water-acclimated?”

“I think his owner mentioned something about it,” she said, trying to remember everything William had told her regarding Starling.

“I suppose we’ll learn that soon enough.”

\--- --- --- --- --- --- --- --- --- --- --- --- ---

It took them some time before Louis found a boat owner willing to take them and their horses out at the late hour. The man grumbled the entire time, making snide comments about rich “folk” not having a decent way of conducting business. Kalysta kept her eyes down as best she could, pretending to be assisting Louis with transferring things to the ship. The owner wasn’t happy about the journey, but he seemed used to such strange things.

The single-masted boat tipped precariously as the horses stepped on, but Louis kept them still once they’d boarded, speaking calm words and patting their necks. And then there was the simple matter of pushing off. A light breeze was blowing and the owner stifled yawns as he went to the back to steer the rudder.

“Whereabouts is your ship that I’m taking you all to?” the man asked.

“It’s just outside the cove to the west,” Louis answered.

“Ah, you two are part of that big group of foreigners that passed through?”

“Yes we are,” Louis lied simply.

\--- --- --- --- --- --- --- --- ---

Except for the slight pitching of the boat, the ride wasn’t unpleasant. Kalysta’s stomach still turned with every dip the vessel made into the water, but she thought the ship might be better.

As the boat exited the cove, small lights appeared, marking the presence of the ship ahead.

The lights grew brighter and she was able to see the ship more clearly. Louis hadn’t been exaggerating. Elysium’s boats were firewood compared to the vastness of the ship.

“Ahoy, the ship!” Louis called as they neared it.

“Who goes there?” a man called from aboard, leaning over the rail with a lantern to see their boat. “State your business!” His accent was Bradian.

“It’s me, Rashad,” Louis answered. “Zayn sent me back with further orders.”

The man tossed a rope ladder over the railing and climbed down it once the boat had pulled alongside the ship.

“Fasten the boat!” the man Rashad called back up. Ropes were tossed by men from the ship and the three men set about securing the lines to keep the vessels connected. Kalysta stood there, feeling useless.

“Alright we have the two horses that need brought aboard,” Louis ordered.

“Throw down the wraps!” Rashad called next.

Kalysta had no idea how to be of help, so she simply stayed to the side, trying to keep out of their way. She watched as they lay individual fleece wraps down and forced the horses to lie in one each. Then, ropes were connected to the wraps from the ship and she watched, stunned, as the horses were hauled quickly upward. It was a considerable feat, and she couldn’t believe that this was a standard procedure for these men.

Once everything else was aboard, Louis paid the boat owner and beckoned to Kalysta to climb the ladder.

“Who is this?” Rashad asked as she stepped forward.

“Just a lad Zayn hired to help aboard the ship.”

“He’s a scrawny mess of a boy,” Rashad scoffed, “what use would he be to us?”

“Zayn ordered; I obeyed,” Louis answered, shrugging.

Kalysta felt Rashad’s judgment as he stared at her, so she simply followed her practice of staring at the ground and walked over to the ladder. Her arms weren’t used to it, so she took longer than she hoped in the climb. However, she stepped aboard, and moved forward away from the ladder so Louis and Rashad could step up as well.

It was then that she noticed the men standing around her, watching her.

Louis’ voice came from behind her…

“Welcome aboard the Partheos, Princess.”


	24. Incendiary Insults

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Zayn's POV

Irresponsible, absurd, feckless, careless, imprudent. He could just imagine all of the things that would be said of him in the future when this whole plan imploded. All of this because some cogent, strong woman had convinced him to discard his well-thought, fool-proof plans. It was going to be simple; he would arrange the marriage of the Princess and Niall and this would give him the time, amidst the convolutions of politics, to draft war councils with the other nations. They had been loath to dedicate themselves to his cause, but his friendship with Louis meant that Wolvecaster was close, and if he could break through to Cheshire then he’d have enough sway to convince Velia.

He sat at the desk in his room, sleep eluding him. If this all went wrong, he would be to blame for it and Dalitrise could be at stake.

He ran a hand through his hair forcefully. It wouldn’t be the first time a man had fallen prey to a woman’s pretty face and smile, but such things weren’t for men in his position who had so much to lose. The way she had looked at him could make any man lose his wits. On the whole, it wasn’t a horrible thing to try. He had been going to do the same thing himself, persuade the rulers to join him, but there was a lot more that could go wrong with her involved.

After sitting, pondering, for another hour, he lay down on his bed, fully clothed, and waited for the sun to rise.

\--- --- --- --- --- --- --- --- ---

Shouting in the hallways made him sit up in bed. He stood quickly and dressed in fresh, unwrinkled clothing. With Louis gone, he didn’t have anyone to lay out an outfit so he hoped this was suitable for the coming events.

He stepped out of the room and watched as everyone scurried around the hallways, servants, guards, and nobles.

“I beg your pardon, miss,” he said, stopping a maid, “but could you tell me what’s going on? There seems to be something wrong.”

“There’s been an upheaval in the Royal Family’s sector of the castle,” she breathed quickly. “Now, if you’ll excuse me, I must go. I shouldn’t be seen talking to you and the Queen will be needing me.”

She scampered away and he walked in the opposite direction.

“Ambassador,” a voice called.

He stopped and looked to see another of his men, Mahir, running toward him.

“What’s the problem, Zayn?” Mahir asked when he got closer. “There’s something happening with King Jonathan. I tried to get closer to that portion of the castle, but I was turned away. And where’s Tommo?”

“I’ll get to the bottom of it,” Zayn answered, ignoring the question about Louis and turning and striding down the hallway.

Mahir followed in silence

\--- --- --- --- --- --- --- --- ---

Zayn took the path to the council chambers, not really sure the best way to find the king. He knew that King Jonathan was going to be in dire straits at the disappearance of his heir.

When they arrived, guards stood outside the door, looking serious and official.

“I beg your pardon, gentlemen,” Zayn said, approaching them. “Would you be able to inform me of the whereabouts of your king? There’s been much uproar in the castle and I would determine that there is no disruption of the progress we’ve made in negotiations.”

“I’m sorry, Ambassador,” one of the men replied, “but the king is in a closed meeting with his advisors.”

Zayn sighed. Time to put on face to save the king from himself.

“Oh is that so?” Zayn asked snidely. “Well, I think you should just remind your king that anytime my father wishes, this entire nation can be turned into rubble. If you deflect me again, I will be the first to recommend such action to my father. Now, take me to your king.”

The other man turned and stepped into the chambers.

“Your Highness,” Zayn heard him say, “my profuse apologies for interrupting, but the Ambassador of Mullingar has insisted upon meeting with you at this time.”

“Oh, send him in,” the king’s voice echoed from inside.

“Wait for me, Mahir,” Zayn said, brushing past the guard and stepping into the council chambers.

“Yes, Ambassador,” the king started without delay, “I am aware that you’ve perceived the upheaval, but I don’t have time for your threats. I have much bigger complications to sort out, so I beg that you take your leave.”

“Your Majesty, need I remind you that I speak for my father?” Zayn warned. “You do not want him for an enemy, and you are already close to it, so I pray that you include me. Avoiding war is to both of our benefits.” He kept silent for a moment, taking in the king’s appearance. The ruler was unkempt, without his crown, and looked haggard. Yes, a missing daughter could do that to a man.

“The upheaval is due to the fact that my daughter has been brought down by a deep illness. A maid who serves her has already fallen dead from this disease, so we know it can be fatal. We have been discussing the options before us, and I hoped to have a proposition ere you became aware, but the gods had other plans. Since you are here, I can tell you only that moving forward with this marriage proposal would be folly when my daughter’s fate is so… precarious.”

“You would call off the treaty?” Zayn asked, feigning anger.

“What more can be done?” the king breathed. “I cannot put forward a proper marital treaty when my daughter is unable to attend.”

“Is that so?” Zayn harried, “because the idea was brought forward and agreed upon without her knowledge or consent.”

The king looked as if he’d been slapped for a moment before true anger settled in. His eyes narrowed and his jaw clenched. However, Zayn couldn’t help making a few more affronts.

“For all your talk of women having a better place here in Elysium, you’re still willing to sell your daughter without the slightest worry, and despite her absence,” Zayn continued.

“Listen, you young welp!” the king hissed, slamming his fist on the table, “Murdoch does not run Elysium yet, so you can keep your opinions of my rule inside that entitled mouth of yours.”

“Tut, tut, King Jonathan,” Zayn admonished, working to provoke the king more. He knew this had to look good. He needed the king to insult him enough that he could pretend to leave in an extreme rage. “That’s no way to speak to a representative of the most powerful man in Dalitrise.”

Jonathan scoffed. “Without the surety of my daughter’s safety, I care nothing for your father and his politics! I will take the consequences of my tongue, but I won’t stand for a bastard of a mad king telling me what I can and cannot do! Take all that back to Murdoch, you unlicked cub, and the both of you be hanged!”

It seemed the king had finally discovered his backbone.

Zayn continued to exude anger and pride. Standing taller, he didn’t utter a word, but turned and exited, slamming the door behind him. That finality preserved his front as the angry, selfish, cruel ambassador, son of Murdoch. Now, he could travel back to the coast and discover if the Princess was as capable as she assumed.

“Come, Mahir, we go back to the Partheos. This fool has just signed away the lives of Elysium.”


	25. Murdoch Knocking

“Welcome to the Partheos, Princess,” Louis breathed as he stepped off the ladder behind her.

“What have we here, Tommo?” one of the men asked, shoving a lantern in her face. Kalysta counted around 25 men total around them. “Why is this lady on board and why is she in trousers? Not that we mind, do we lads?”

Kalysta drew herself up, intending to give him a stern lecture on how to address a lady when Louis elbowed her.

“This is a friend of Zayn’s, men,” Louis called out, stepping forward and attempting to pull the attention to himself. “We’re taking her aboard for a time under his orders and she’s not to be trifled with. Any man showing this woman even a bit of discourtesy and it’s work cleaning the head for a month!” 

“Now, continue as you were! We’ll be pulling anchor tomorrow or the day following, so I want this ship ready to sail before then.

“Alright, come with me,” he said to her.

She followed him to the ladder leading below. It was dark and dank as she stepped down after him. The sole lighting was provided by lanterns, but they only allowed for visibility a couple of feet around them. As such, she could only see vague shapes of things as she stepped to the floor.

“Princess,” Louis said, stopping and turning to her abruptly, “we need to talk.”

“What’s wrong?”

“I understand your reason for this journey,” he began, stepping into the light of one of the lanterns, “even more since I’ve heard your side of things, but I want you to understand fully what you’re getting yourself into.”

“I know the dangers of what we face,” she complained. “Despite the suddenness, I’ll have you know that I thought this through considerably.”

“You thought about it, but I doubt you have enough knowledge to make a fully educated decision on it.”

“What do you mean?” She’d learned in their short time around each other that this man knew things, understood things that she hadn’t considered. If there was something to give him pause now, she figured that he deserved the benefit of the doubt.

“You know who you’re dealing with, who you’re up against, but you don’t know everything about him.”

“Get to the point, please.”

“If Niall or Murdoch finds out about this journey, then you can be sure that they will immediately declare open war. Their attack will be swift and merciless.”

“I’m aware they wouldn’t be the happiest, but abandoning all civilities and starting the war from this?”

“You’re the foundation of their plans,” he continued. “You are the only hope for peaceable agreement between Mullingar and Elysium. Mullingar law states that rulers and heir must marry a maiden of royal blood and if that’s in question-”

“I beg your pardon?” Kalysta gasped, interrupting him. “I will not discuss such matters with you, neither will I let you presume as to know my status on it.”

“I’m not presuming anything, Princess!” he cried. “But Niall and Murdoch will!”

Kalysta turned from him.

“My first reaction is to call you horrible names and throw a tantrum, but I’m attempting to change such attitudes,” she hissed. “Now please fully explain yourself.”

“If they think there’s any chance you’re not a maiden, they will not have any other available method for diplomatic occupation, because Niall cannot marry you. They won’t hesitate. It will be war.”

“And that status will be in question if they learn I’ve been on this unchaperoned journey,” she surmised, turning back to him.

“Yes,” he breathed. “That’s why this whole endeavor worries me. If we travel to the other countries it will be impossible to hide your identity. Mullingar has spies everywhere. We risk Zayn’s cover, your cover, and your country’s fate in this.”

“What would you have me do?!” she responded, gesturing angrily. “Should I just marry the Prince and watch him destroy Elysium from the inside? The other rulers ignore this and they will dupe themselves into thinking nothing is wrong until the moment Murdoch knocks on their castle walls. I will reach them, and I will shake them from this complacency before Dalitrise is lost forever!”

Louis looked pained. “I just want you to know what is risked here, how much Zayn is chancing in this.” His voice was low once more.

“Thank you for making me aware,” she said, “but it changes nothing.”


	26. It's Only Been a Couple Days

Louis gestured for them to continue once more. He took her to a small room at the very back of the ship.

"This is where you'll be," he said, opening the door and hanging the lantern on a hook on the inside. "It's not the most stable portion of the ship, so I would suggest coming up on deck as much as possible until the mal leaves you."

"The mal?"

"The mal de mer," he replied, as if it was the simplest thing to understand.

"I'm not familiar with that."

"Oh, yes, I'm sure you've heard of it, but perhaps not with that name. It's what happens when you are on the sea for the first time and you feel nausea and you're unable to stand correctly. You blunder about like you're inebriated, but it passes eventually."

"Oh what a joy," Kalysta quipped.

\--- --- --- --- --- --- --- --- --- --- ---

She looked around her. She wasn't sure when the mal de mer was supposed to hit, but she didn't feel anything yet. The slight lurching of the ship made her stomach do the same every once in a while, but no nausea had struck her.

Upon investigation she found that her luggage had been placed outside the door to her room. She rifled through it then, looking at all that Delia had packed. None of her packs would fit in the room comfortably. The room was simply that small. The four poster and small side table barely fit without touching each other and they were nailed to the floor, something she'd never encountered before. And the cot/mattress looked more bug-infested than half of the seedy inns in town that she'd come across. If the stains were anything to go by, at least one person had probably died on the bed.

She shuddered, pulled a fresh shirt and pair of trousers out of her bags and changed. Then, she sat on the table to think for a moment, too afraid to risk sitting on the bed. However, soon her thoughts started racing and she knew she couldn't just sit idly by while things were going on. Even if they weren't pulling anchor, she couldn't sit by herself.

Opening the door, she made her way to the ladder, only tripping several times in the process. As she emerged into the open, she saw that the sun was beginning to rise. This far out, it was hidden behind the horizon, out of view because of the land in the way. But the sky was lit up and the clouds reflected multiple hues of pink, purple, and orange, a calming beauty that was welcome in this time of turmoil.

She was stood looking at the sky when she heard Louis say, "What are you doing?"

"I can't stay below," she answered, glancing at him. She was surprised to see that he'd shed the clothes he'd been wearing, proper servants clothes, in favor of time roughened pants, cut off at the knees, and a loose, unbuttoned cotton shirt. With this new attire she could see that he too sported multiple designs of black ink, on the skin of his arms and swirling onto his chest. It was slightly frightening to see, as no one in Elysium had them.

Her curiosity got the better of her and she moved closer, reaching her hand out to touch them before her wits came back. She pulled her hand to her chest and looked down.

"Have you never seen a tattoo before?" he asked.

"No. I had heard of them, but never before had I... Did it hurt? Are they permanent?"

"Ah, such curiosity," he commented. "However, it will have to be satisfied later. You need to go back to your room." The last part was said in a low voice to her only so that the crew didn't hear.

"I can't stand it in there," she whined. "There's nothing to do and I feel closeted."

"Be that as it may, you still need to return there," Louis warned in the same quiet voice, shaking his head. "There's already going to be speculation among the men as to who you are and I'd rather not have more to spur their questions. I'm hoping to put off explanation until Zayn is here to do it himself. He knows what he wants to say to them, the reason for having you aboard and all that and since he did not share what he would have me say to them it's better for all of us if you go back to your room."

Kalysta looked around and noticed that, indeed, the men were watching her with keen interest. She supposed that was normal, since women were not a usual site aboard ships. Their stares were not hostile, but inquisitive, a few lewd. She could practically see their minds whirling.

"Would it really cause that many problems?" she asked. "I don't know if I can deal with being cramped in there for long. You're saying you want me to stay there until Zayn gets back to the ship?"

"Yes."

That thought was the first thing that made her feel sick.

"I suppose I can try."

"If it's too much then try taking one of the lanterns and walking about belowdecks. It will keep you moving and you can familiarize yourself with that part of the ship. As well, it might help prevent the mal from striking so harshly."

"I'll do as you ask," she said meekly, moving back to the ladder.

"Many thanks."

\--- --- --- --- --- --- --- ---

It was better walking, and he was right. Though it was still dark and slightly cramped, she was able to get her bearings. As the sun rose further, she was provided more light all around as it shone through slight cracks and down from the ladder hatch.

She was surprised to see dozens of wooden crates and chests mixed around. The crates were nailed shut and the chests all had padlocks, so her snooping was cut off short of gratification. It made her slightly suspicious, wondering if they were sneaking prohibited things between countries. His travel probably made Zayn the best candidate for something like that, but she didn't want to jump to conclusions. Though agreements had been established between them she was having trouble setting aside her prejudices and viewing him in a new light. His presence was enthralling, yes, but letting a pretty face distract her was definitely one of the worst decisions she could make.

As was to be expected, pacing grew boring very quickly. It was one thing to not cause undue speculation about her identity, but it was another to keep her trapped below all day. She was able to distract herself a bit, eating the hard cheese and bread from her bags, but that didn't last long either.

She walked back over to the ladder and stepped up enough to poke her head out above.

"What are you doing?"

She almost back fell down the ladder.

"Are you simply watching this to make sure I don't come back on deck?" she grumbled, holding her hand up to block the sun from her eyes. Louis was staring down at her.

"Not particularly," he commented. "I had simply walked over here to talk with Hafiz, but now I'm doubly glad I did. Why are you coming back up?"

"Truly, I can't stay down there any longer," she sighed, stepping up another rung. "I'm going crazy on this ship and we haven't even left yet."

"You'll be able to come up on deck more once Zayn is back," Louis said. "Why don't you rest a bit? I know you're tired."

"I'm not quite tired enough to sleep on that vermin-infested rag pile."

"Princess," he grated, "this is not your most auspicious moment." The face he made was one of barely controlled disdain. "There are going to be worse things on this trip than sleeping on a cot of straw instead of a bed of feathers. And I promise you, it holds no vermin. It's a guest's quarters, however small, so we keep it highly functional."

He stood up again. "Now, find something to occupy yourself and don't come back up here until Zayn gives you permission. That's an order."

"I beg your pardon?" Kalysta sputtered.

"Mind your head," he advised, moving the hatch down on her.

She ducked and moved back down the ladder before she was hit. The hatch closed and she was left with nothing but the lanterns for visibility.

Had he actually thought to give her orders? Who was he to tell her anything? She'd have a word with the Ambassador about his followers stepping out of line, noble or not.

With naught else to do, she trudged back to her designated room. She was tired; she'd give him that much.

When she looked at the bed, it didn't appear any safer despite Louis' promise of the lack of vermin.

She threw back the frayed quilt and watched avidly for any sign of scurrying or scratching that could indicate mice or beetles. Of course, the lack of movement didn't assure her any. She wouldn't be able to see the little creatures that accompanied straw and could give her horrible itchy welts.

Sighing, she surrendered to the possibility of discomfort and laid down.

\--- --- --- --- --- --- --- --- --- ---

"Princess," a voice prompted. Kalysta was shaken, but she turned away from the source of annoyance.

"Away with you, Delia," she complained. "Let me sleep."

"Rouse yourself, Princess," the voice persisted. "You're not in the castle anymore. You're aboard the Partheos and Zayn is back. He requests your presence on deck."

Kalysta sprang up, throwing the covers off and sliding her feet to the floor to stand.

"Oh!" she gasped, wavering for a moment. She felt off balance. Apparently, the mal de mer had finally struck. However, there was no nausea; yet.

"Careful, Princess," Louis warned, gripping her elbow, for it was he that had woken her up. "Take it steady. I won't be carrying you up that ladder."

"I'm sure that won't be necessary," she toned. "How long did I sleep? How is he back already?"

"You've been asleep since midday," he answered, gesturing for her to move out of the room. "It's the next morning now, around the seventh hour."

"I can't have been asleep that long!" she protested, doing as he indicated, and moving more slowly than she liked.

"Yes, you were," he countered, following her. "Things have been a bit busy for you the past few days, so I'll hazard a guess that you needed it."

The hatch was open once more and the morning light was pouring in.

She stumbled several times over nothing, feeling as if she was being thrown about as the ship barely moved. What was this?

"How long does the mal de mer last?"

"It depends on the person," Louis answered. "Usually no more than a week. However, sometimes people don't ever recover. Ships just do not agree with them and they are sick for the entire time they are aboard."

"Oh damnation," she whispered. "I can't be sick the entire trip!" she protested in a louder voice.

"Odds are that you'll get your sea legs eventually. Is your stomach bothering you yet?"

"Not quite. It feels uneasy."

"It will get worse."

"Thanks so much for the encouragement."

"Every man on this ship has encountered it and recovered," Louis told her without sympathy. "You'll survive."

Unsteadily, she stepped up the ladder. She had the pleasure of thinking that if she were to fall, at least she'd hit Louis on the way down, maybe silence his insolence. As it was, she almost fell as she stepped up to the deck. Luckily, one knee hit and she was able to stumble back to her feet a moment later. That certainly wouldn't have been possible in a skirt. These trousers were extremely handy in helping her keep her balance.

In the daylight, she was able to take in the ship to its full extent. It was a giant three-masted monstrosity. She didn't understand a bit of what was going on with all the ropes and lines running about, but men were moving around with a sense of urgency, pulling on some ropes, climbing the masts. She couldn't keep track of it all.

Someone cleared their throat and she realized she was blocking the way for Louis to get off of the ladder. She moved to the side, lost her balance, and stumbled to the side for the hundredth time since she'd awoken. Arms caught her before she hit the deck, though, and she looked up into an unfamiliar face.

The man steadied her and then set her on her feet gently.

"Er, thank you," she said. She thought about stepping away, but thought she'd probably end up falling again if she moved too abruptly. He backed away from her a breath later.

"Yes, thank you, Mahir," another voice said from nearby.

She whirled, somehow keeping her footing, and Zayn came into view.

He wore an outfit similar to the one Louis had donned, with the addition of a vest. Also like Louis, black ink was splayed across his partially exposed chest and down where his forearms were visible.

She gaped at him, unable to conceive in her mind the idea that the intelligent, shrewd man she'd encountered at the castle was the same man before her, a sailor covered in tattoos. After a moment, she took a closer look and saw the bags under his eyes, the way he held himself as if he were a moment away from falling asleep. He looked utterly exhausted.

And he was staring at her, his eyes darting up and down the length of her body. His gaze made the heat rise in her cheeks. A knowing grin split his face and as her sense of propriety returned she glared him down and crossed her arms, huffing at him.

"I guess we'll both have a little bit to get used to," he quipped.

"I suppose so," she snapped.

"Since when has it been proper for a woman to wear trousers?" he asked.

"Since it became impractical to wear petticoats and since I decided that as a Princess, I can do what is necessary. Anyone with an opinion can hang themselves."

Zayn laughed. "I should have realized from your past... escapades, that you weren't averse to, how shall I say this?... dressing the part?"

"I see your sense of decency hasn't improved any," she hissed.

"Ah, darling, it's only been a couple days. Cut me some slack." He looked behind her and said, "Louis, would you call the men together, please?"

"Of course, Captain."


	27. Suspicions

"As you can see," Zayn called, "we have a guest aboard." He stood on the upper decks with Louis and had pulled Kalysta up with him.

The men called and whistled at this comment.

"Oy, stow it!" Louis called, silencing them.

"Before you all give your opinion," Zayn continued, "let me introduce her. Men, I present to you, Kalysta, the Princess Heir of Elysium."

The men stared at him like he was crazy, then stared at her, unsure what to say.

"I know how this seems," he ventured, "but I assure you, this isn't a gimmick. You're all aware of our primary motive for this visit to Elysium and I can tell you that we were successful. The Princess has joined our cause and has requested that she go with us to the other nations in order to plea with them to stand against Murdoch and Niall."

"Ain't never seen a woman wearin' men's clothes, let alone a Princess," one called from the crowd.

"Yes, Hafiz, you are correct," Zayn sighed. "But have you ever actually seen a Princess?"

"Well, no."

"Well, then, I suggest you stay silent on matters of which you are blissfully uninformed," Zayn suggested.

The men laughed, Hafiz included.

"Now, the Princess has joined us and has requested that we help her beseech the other nations," he continued. "I'm sure I won't need to remind you that as a Princess she is to be treated with great care and reverence. So set aside yourselves," he said, his voice wry, "and pretend you have class for a couple of weeks."

The men laughed again and Zayn smiled easily. He seemed to have their absolute devotion and Kalysta wondered what he had done to attain it.

"Since this needs to be kept under wraps, we'll need to leave with all haste. First Mate Tomlinson, would you be so kind as to get us underway?"

"Of course, Captain," Louis said, stepping forward. He began yelling orders to the crew and Zayn beckoned Kalysta to the lower deck.

As she moved to go down the stairs, the sails dropped and the ship began to move with the wind. It threw her off balance and she gripped the railing to brace herself.

"Careful, Princess," Zayn said, moving to her. "Can't lose you before we even start."

"I-I don't feel well," she stuttered.

"Go to the side," he rushed, putting his arm around her and leading her over to look out to sea.

The ship swayed further and that was all it took. She was in the full throes of sickness. From her memory, she knew it wasn't going to be pretty either. How mortifying, her, a Princess, heaving her insides over the side of a ship in full view of more than a dozen men... in men's clothing.

Not much made an appearance. After all, she'd been sleeping for some time and hadn't eaten. Instead, she felt violent contractions in her stomach that produced next to nothing.

When what little was present had been given to the sea, she wiped her mouth and turned around.

Marvelously, the men were all doing work and none seemed to be paying her any mind. Less pleasing was the fact that the Ambassador had left. Yes, she was conscious of the fact that this happened to everyone, but still, having a semi-friendly face around would have been considerate.

She didn't have long to build up a grudge, though, because the next lurch had her hanging her upper body over the side and retching again. There were tears in her eyes and she felt like she was dying. When her stomach settled a bit she slouched down and sat, leaning against the railing, closing her eyes. This was horrible. There was no way she'd be able to manage this for the entire trip.

"Princess?"

She opened her eyes and looked up weakly to see Zayn towering over her.

"I assumed you would feel like you were in death's pall," he said, squatting next to her, "so I grabbed you a flask of water. My advice is to swish some in your mouth, clear the bile taste, and spit it back out. You won't be able to handle anything, even water, for a couple hours. It'll just be right back up."

Kalysta nodded. It took a moment to work up the motivation to stand once more. She used the railing for support, then took the container from him. Unstoppering it, she did as he'd said and spit the water over the side. Her mouth did feel better, but her stomach was still tender and letting her know how unhappy she was.

"I want to go back to my room," she complained.

"I wouldn't advise that, Princess," Zayn responded. "You'll recover more quickly if you stay on deck. You'll get used to the movement of the ship better up here."

She moaned and slid back into a sitting position. "This had better not last very long."

"There's no way to know."

"Do you have any other tricks on how to survive this?" she begged.

"Just to wait it out," he sighed. "That's all anyone can ever do."

She wrapped her arms around her abdomen and leaned against the railing again, closing her eyes. "Just leave me here to perish, then," she breathed.

He chuckled. "That's a bit dramatic, don't you think?"

"You should have seen me when I was supposed to be in lessons," she countered. "I made up all sorts of illnesses to get out of them. Oftentimes I worked so hard at appearing sick that I'd end up making myself so."

"Well, no need to pretend here. The sea does it for you."

"Perhaps I'll pretend I'm well and my body will follow."

"Yes, inform me of your success in that," he scoffed.

He left then and she didn't know what to do. So she sat there, trying and failing to ignore her tossing stomach. And she was exhausted, somehow, even after all the sleep she'd had.

Eventually, she realized that sitting in the sun wasn't the smartest idea and crawled to where the upper deck provided shade. Even more profitable was the presence of a pile of spare canvas, apparently for patching the sails. It wasn't the softest material, but when she lay down on it she felt like she was sinking into pure comfort.

\--- --- --- --- --- --- --- --- ---

Zayn's POV

He left her there against his better judgment and went to his quarters below the top decks. Louis was already there.

"How are we going to record this in the log, Zayn?" he asked. "We can't very well say who we have aboard, but there needs to be something about an extra person."

"I understand that, Louis," Zayn sighed. "I'm going to enter in that we have a paying guest who wishes to go to Cheshire. Following that, all record of her will cease. We won't even mention the gender of our passenger, in fact."

"I suppose that will have to do," Louis allowed. "How will we keep the men quiet? Not all of them are above bribery by the right people."

"Do you have anyone specifically in mind?"

"Samir has been show to open his mouth to whoever buys him a pint," Louis answered, "and Jafez has been angry and discontented since you left him aboard in Elysium."

"Buy Samir a bottle and we'll leave him aboard in Cheshire," Zayn supplied. "There's nothing we can do about Jafez, so we'll take him with us and watch him carefully. Perhaps I can win his loyalty back with some gold and a drink in Cheshire."

"What did you do with the Mullingan men?" Louis asked next. "I didn't see any of them board with you."

"I sent them directly back to Mullingar to inform Murdoch as to what's going on, at least, what I told the men is going on."

"And what did you tell them?"

"I had to keep it close to the truth, because I'm not sure where Murdoch has his spies," Zayn said, getting up to pour them wine. "I said that the Princess' life wasn't guaranteed and that negotiations were shaky. With that in mind, I had taken it upon myself to travel to the other nations and lean on them to ensure they wouldn't support Elysium in the case of war."

"I know you said it was taken care of, but we can't ignore the issue of Hayden."

"I have word that it won't be a problem," Zayn warned.

"Yes, she says that she has it all in hand, but how much can we trust her capability? She has no experience."

"We have no choice," Zayn answered.

"This could tear down the whole plan, Zayn," Louis said.

"I know, I know, I know."

\--- --- --- --- --- --- --- --- ---

Kalysta's POV

"Sleep well?" a voice startled her awake.

She sat up abruptly and clutched her stomach.

"Still not feeling well?" It was Louis.

She didn't answer. She just stood and ran to the railing to lose the nothing she had eaten.

"How long did I sleep?" she asked once she'd rinsed her mouth.

"It's the sixteenth hour," he replied.

"Didn't think I would be that tired still," she muttered, slouching against the railing.

"That's the best way through the mal," Louis commented. "And tossin' it all can really take your strength."

Kalysta nodded. "How long til we get to... well, where are we headed first?"

"Zayn said we'll go to Cheshire first, but we stop in Velia for supplies."

"It would be best to secure the most powerful nation outside of Murdoch's control," she surmised, "and then the others will be more likely to side with us."

"That was his thought too."

"What do you know of King Harry?" she asked.

"Probably as much as you, if not less," he commented lightly, looking away. "Zayn would be a better person to discuss that with."

"Don't lie to me, Louis," she pressed. "You know more than you let on. I need to know what I'm up against."

"It's not my place to talk about it," Louis said with finality, "and that's all I'll say on the matter."

He turned abruptly and walked away.

It was obvious there was something going on, something he was hiding, and she needed to find out what. The subject was too suspicious not to investigate.


	28. How Far

Any idea of investigating was put on hold in the face of illness. She was at the mercy of her body and it took over everything. Someone had filled her flask again, because she’d used it all rinsing her mouth of the foul taste of bile. She had hardly noticed except to feel the returned weight when she picked it up.

“Princess, have you had anything to drink today?” The Ambassador had come to visit again.

“I can’t hold it down,” she said, curled up in misery. “Why would I attempt it?”

“Just a moment,” he said, walking away.

She groaned and rolled her eyes, already forgetting he’d ever been there. The extra sails were still providing her with an acceptably comfortable bed, but she was so miserable that she didn’t really care anymore.

“Princess?”

She opened her eyes again and he stood there, holding a handkerchief full of something.

“I brought some pastry crackers,” the Ambassador said, squatting down. “What you need to do is take a sip of water, then a bite of cracker. Chew slowly and thoroughly and don’t overeat. This will help you keep down the water because you won’t feel the lurching of the water as the ship moves. Also, your body is going to process the crackers quickly. Maybe you’ll have them long enough before you throw up again.”

She took the crackers and the smell of them made her hungry, somehow. Her stomach was sore, but still managed to rumble. She definitely didn’t understand this sort of illness.

As he’d advised, she ate slowly, chewing a lot. Even still, she couldn’t eat very much, because the nausea reared its head again. She halted, having eaten only two crackers.

“I take it that you won’t be eating more?” he asked.

She just groaned and put her head in her hands.

“Rest some more if it passes,” he sighed. “We’ll stop in Velia for supplies in about two days.”

“We won’t go to King Thomas first?” she asked softly.

“King Harry’s support will almost certainly be necessary before we can convince the others,” he supplied. “And he’ll be the most difficult to sway to our side.”

“He’s not on our side at all?”

“He’s not on Murdoch’s if that’s what you’re asking,” he assured her. “He’s simply ambivalent. There are more important things in his mind than the woes of other countries. The way he sees it, he has nothing to worry about, and he’s mostly right.”

“Then we need to persuade him otherwise,” she said, taking a small sip of water. “He can’t stand against us all if Murdoch conquers Velia and Wolvecaster as well as Elysium.”

“He’s willing to take that risk.”

“I’ll change that,” Kalysta promised vehemently.

“I pray, for all our sakes, that you can,” he commented.

A moment passed in silence.

“We’ll go to Cheshire first, then,” she said, “but where after? Wolvecaster? Velia?”

“Wolvecaster is the closest to supporting the resistance,” he answered, “so we’ll go there after Cheshire, with all luck perhaps gain their support, and have them in our books before going to King Thomas.”

“Why is Wolvecaster more sympathetic?” she asked lightly.

“I have informants and people in every country.”

“An informant provides information, as the name suggests,” she continued. “They do not gain you support or the ear of a king. Perhaps it has something to do with Louis?”

“It’s not my place to tell,” he said quietly, taking care not to look at her.

“That’s strange, because he said the same thing.”

“I have to get back to my men,” he said abruptly, standing.

“Of course you do,” she sighed exasperatedly. “When either you or Louis grow enough of a manhood to tell me the meaning of what you hide, I’ll most likely be here.”

He didn’t respond and walked away.

\--- --- --- --- --- --- --- --- --- --- ---

Kalysta slept a bit more, but as was her routine she woke and emptied her stomach again. There wasn’t much so she knew that she’d digested at least a bit of the crackers and water. Still, she felt foggy, which she knew was from lack of water. When was this going to end? It already seemed an eternity, but she’d honestly lost track of how long it’d been.

At the moment, evening was falling. The sun slipped down the horizon and it was then that she came to the realization that they’d left land behind completely and she was entirely reliant on a pile of logs floating on the sea to keep her safe. That thought was soon dwarfed when the sunset truly displayed itself.

A full palette of oranges, purples, pinks, and blues were strewn across the sky and reflected back on the water. It was a sight to behold and almost made her forget her stomach. As it was, she felt like she was seeing a sunset for the first time in her life, because never had there been such a visualization of it.

“Nothing quite like an ocean sunset, is there?” Louis had returned.

“Of course not,” she said. “If people knew of this beauty there’d probably be a lot more sailors.”

“Yes, this is one of the many advantages of sea travel,” he sighed. “But with great beauty comes great danger. The sea has its fair share of perils. She’s a capricious, powerful lover.”

“I would venture to say that the mal de mer isn’t the worst thing we could see on this journey?”

“Most definitely not. Just pray the Lady of the Depths is in a good mood.”

“I’ve not heard much about a goddess of the sea,” Kalysta admitted.

“If you believe in such things, make your plea,” Louis directed. “It won’t do any harm to be prepared.”

He nodded to her politely before stepping away to see to whatever business a ship’s First Mate attended.

\--- --- --- --- --- --- --- --- --- --- --- --- ---

Time passed miserably slow. She slept most of the time, but when she wasn’t she was retching over the edge of the boat. It was a rhythm she had grown weary of the second time she threw up. The only fair sights were the sunrises and sunsets. She was awake for both sets and for some reason it made her feel hopeful, like the beginning and ending of each day showed her that anything could change with the passing of time.

Zayn and Louis stopped by every couple of hours or so to fill her canteen, check on her, and sometimes to talk. She didn’t broach the subject of Louis’ secret again and neither did they. She wouldn’t let it rest, though. Her only wish was that she was well enough to question the other men. From her observations, the men all knew each other and Louis quite well. This led to the perception that their loyalty to Louis was as strong as their loyalty to Zayn. If she endeavored to attain information from them she risked alienating them and causing suspicion. She would do her best to avoid that.

\--- --- --- --- --- --- --- --- --- --- ---

“Port Arcanum off starboard!”

The call woke her and she felt the familiar tossing in her stomach. However, as the ship slowed and the anchor was dropped, the churning lessened. This did little to bolster her feelings. It seemed she would never recover. As long as the ship was moving she wouldn’t be comfortable.

“Attention, men!” Louis called. “The Captain has your orders!”

Zayn stepped forward on the top deck so everyone could see him. From her position next to the steps Kalysta could barely see him.

“This isn’t going to be a leisure stop, chaps,” he said.

There was a grumble of protest in response.

“Ah, there will be plenty of time to get your rocks off in Cheshire,” he continued. “This is just a supply stop. We’ll be back before the end of the night. I’ll take a crew ashore and Louis will stay with the rest of you here. I’ll announce the crew at the eighth hour. Until then, ready the ship for anchor.”

He moved down the steps to the lower deck, exchanging a few words here and there. She stood up to talk to him.

“Can I go ashore?” she asked.

“I’m going to have to say no,” he answered quietly. The men around them moved away in pursuit of work, but at the same time they seemed to be avoiding her. She would worry about that later.

“I don’t know how much more of this I can take,” she confessed, close to choking on her own pride. “I would give anything to go ashore for a day, if just to hold down one paltry meal.”

This was a big risk. One part of her was being completely honest, but at the same time she wondered whether he would take advantage of her plea and try to make her beholden to him in some way. She was testing the waters after a fashion. In the short time she’d know him, there hadn’t been many opportunities to get the full measure of this enemy turned ally.

“Princess, I understand your plight,” he assured her. “However, this entire matter is best attempted if you are not seen by many people. Every time you leave this ship is a chance that someone could grow suspicious, our alliance become exposed, and the resistance put in jeopardy. Yes, I know that being ill has been troublesome for you, but I ask that you bear this burden for a little while longer.”

His words surprised her. It made her wonder just how much he feared being exposed to his family. As well, she comprehended the entirety of his sacrifice.

“Just how far are you going to take this resistance?” she asked quietly. “What is your end plan?”

He wouldn’t meet her eyes, though.

“As is always the case, I will do what I must.”

It seemed she wasn’t the only one a slave to duty. However, his yoke seemed a much bigger burden to bear.


	29. Admirable, Really

Kalysta still didn’t know what was going on as the men moved quickly around her to prepare the ship. The sails were pulled up to the crossbeams by a system of ropes that she couldn’t fathom. Watching the men who climbed the masts and lines was terrifying because they seemed to float up effortlessly, as if the heights they reached meant nothing to them.

She watched them for a moment, then took advantage of the return of some state of balance to work on restoring her health. It took her a minute of struggling with the bolt and hatch leading belowdecks, but she eventually was able to open it and go down the ladder. She left the hatch open to allow visibility as she went to the bags outside her room.

There was still some food left, hard, crusted bread and dried cheese. Ordinarily, this would be the epitome of disgusting to her, but after so long without substantial food it looked heavenly. Her first urge was to eat all of it as quickly as possible. However, logic won and instead she took alternating bites of bread and cheese, slowly, chewing deliberately and washing it down with water from her flask. She was amazed at how thirsty she was as well. Soon, she was simply drinking, having set aside the remaining food.

“Princess?”

She turned. Zayn had stepped down the ladder and she’d been too preoccupied to notice.

“Take care with how quickly you eat,” he said. “Eating too swiftly with an irritated stomach can produce similar results as the tossing of the ship.”

“I’ve been careful,” she replied. “Am I able to get more water?” Again, her pride told her to stay silent, but she was still parched.

“Give me a moment.” He went back up the ladder and disappeared.

He didn’t take long.

“There’s no more water in the stock barrels,” he said as he climbed back down to join her.

She sighed.

He moved around the crates toward her, reaching inside his vest to remove an object. When he got to her held it out. It was his own flask.

“Why are you giving me this?” she asked, looking at it in his hand.

“I’m going ashore and will be able to get water easily,” he answered. “You, however, won’t be getting any more until late tonight. You have more need of it than I do.”

She had hoped that she would stop being surprised by him at some point. Her surprise now was coupled with gratitude. It seemed that every interaction she had with this man was going to force her to change another rooted assumption, make her see him more as a man and less and less as her enemy alone.

“I can’t take your personal flask,” she protested. “I am grateful, but won’t you need it?”

“Tell me you aren’t afraid of it having been at my mouth,” he sighed.

“Actually, no,” she said, unhappy at the thought that she hadn’t considered that protestation first. “It just seems wrong to take a sailor’s source of fresh water.” In reality, she didn’t want to be beholden to him more than she already was. Only now was she realizing just how much of a debt she would owe this man.

“Take the flask,” he urged. “I’ll want it back, but you can use it for now.”

She reached out and took it, careful not to let their hands touch, for what reason she couldn’t comprehend.

“You can move about freely,” he said next. “You won’t have to be trapped down here as you were before. With that in mind, there are some places I would… caution you to avoid.”

“They are?...”

“I would ask you to stay out of the crew’s portion belowdecks,” he said. “None would dare harm you, but there is no reason for you to be there, and the men are not all equipped to handle discussing things with a noble, and a Princess even less so. They would not mean offense or harm, but may deliver it regardless. I would prevent this. The galley, the kitchen, too, should also be avoided.”

She nodded, wondering just how crude sailors were if he did not want her around them entirely.

“Would you prefer that I do not speak to the men as a whole?” she asked.

“Not necessarily.” He looked uneasy for a moment. “If they approach you, then by all means you may converse as you see fit. That man can hold himself accountable. I simply ask that you take care. It would ease my mind some while I am off the ship.”

“I promise to do my best.”

“I believe that’s all that can be done,” he affirmed.

He stood looking at her. It was slightly unnerving, because the crinkling and widening of his eyes showed various emotions drifting across his mind. She stared back, sensing that this was almost becoming a battle of wills.

“Until later,” he offered, nodding and turning to go up the ladder.

Once he was out of sight she released her breath and wondered if she would ever understand him.

Zayn’s POV

It was fascinating that she still held her air of royalty and sophistication when she was paler than the moon and wearing men’s clothes. Admirable, really.


	30. Stilted Discourse

Kalysta's POV

Boredom came on fast as there was nothing for her to do. There was no work, there were no people to interview, and no plans she could formulate. She didn’t know enough to plan, and for the first time she began to wonder whether this hurried scheme of hers was achievable. Gaining the support of the other nations was more than necessary. It was a matter of Murdoch destroying Dalitrise under his rule if she didn’t succeed. But all she knew of the rulers was what Elysium had managed to scrape up from their spies.

King Harry was known to be highly religious, a man who valued life and was more peaceful than any ruler in the past. Cheshire seemed to prosper under his rule, but his military was almost as poorly organized as that of Elysium’s. However, they provided the other countries with needed crops, raw materials, and artisan goods that helped everyone survive. This provided them with some measure of safety, because uprooting the people of Cheshire would destroy trade routes and set back everyone for years. King Harry knew this, and it was obvious that he considered himself safe because of it. But he wouldn’t be; not for long, not when Murdoch had the other nations in his fist.

Kalysta knew it would take a lot to persuade this king of the danger he faced, especially because the man felt so secure behind his walls of diplomacy and trade. Perhaps she could reach the part of him that valued life, in the hope that he valued more than just the lives of his own people.

\--- --- --- --- --- --- --- --- --- --- --- --- ---

Her boredom and racing mind drove her to pace the deck. In her movements she found the hatch that ostensibly led to the crew’s quarters and avoided it. As it was, the few men remaining on deck didn’t bother her. When she walked past, they simply tipped their caps or bowed their heads briefly. They seemed courteous enough.

“You look well recovered,” Louis said, approaching her. “Are you planning to stride a hole in the deck?”

“Perhaps if I walk enough it won’t be such a drastic change for me when the ship begins moving again.”

“That’s the only reason you’re pacing like the destiny of the whole of humanity rests in your hands?” Louis asked knowingly.

“Yes, I have a lot on my mind, as you can tell,” she admitted. “There’s nothing else to do on this dreadful ship but think.”

“Don’t let Zayn hear you deem his beloved as such.”

“Is he that particularly attached to the Partheos?” she asked incredulously.

“She’s the only girl I’ve ever known him to love, so I’d say yes,” Louis replied, shrugging.

Kalysta shook her head in exasperation, but her mind raced,

“Would you like something to pass the time, Princess?” he offered, changing the subject.

“And what would that be?”

“You carry knives, correct?”

“Yes.”

“Would you like to learn how to throw them properly? All for scholarly sake, of course. I’m sure you won’t have an occasion to use it.”

“I don’t know how to throw them at all,” she said. “I learned hand-to-hand fighting while I was growing up, because I’m only supposed to defend myself.”

“You were only supposed to follow your father’s orders as well, right?” he observed.

“I see your point.”

\--- --- --- --- --- --- --- --- --- ---

For the next few hours, she learned the best way to throw a knife. Louis had immediately rejected her blades, saying that they were simply for show and maybe to open letters.

“They’re called push daggers!” she protested. “They’re made for close-up fights.”

“Have you ever had to use them as such?”

“Well, no.”

“But you have used them to open letters?”

“I-” she stopped, beginning to deny it, but unwilling to lie.

“As I thought,” he said. He reached into his belt and removed his knife. “I’ll relinquish my own for the sake of teaching, then.”

From then on, he fixed her stance, her grip on the knives, and showed her the best way to throw the knife quickly and accurately.

It was harder work than she’d thought, so when she grew thirsty she pulled out the flask and drank.

“Is that Zayn’s?” Louis asked sharply.

“Yes, he said I needed it more than he would.”

He looked at the flask in her hand, looked up at her face, and his eyes narrowed. Then, he looked at the flask once more.

“May I see it?” he asked next.

“I suppose.” She handed it to him, her confusion growing. “What is the problem?”

“No problem.” His reply was quiet and absentminded as he turned the flask over on his palm.

He handed it back to her and sighed. “Keep it close,” he instructed, shaking his head and looking at the ground for a moment.

“The Ambassador said he’d want it back, so I have no intention of misplacing it.”

“Yes, of course,” Louis fretted, returning his gaze to her. “Just… take care with it.”

“I believe that you and the Ambassador have more secrets than the rest of the people of Dalitrise together.” She put the flask back into the loose-hanging pockets of the trousers.

Louis just shook his head for a second time and turned back to the mast they’d been gutting with the knife.

“Once more at the mast, Princess,” he ordered. “I won’t have any pupil of mine doing shoddy work.”

\--- --- --- --- --- --- --- --- --- ---

Zayn’s POV

When they returned to the Partheos in the third hour of the morning, all was quiet. The lanterns provided enough light to see the watchmen moving about on deck.

“Ahoy, the ship!” Mahir called as they approached in the smaller vessel.

Lines were thrown over and the supplies were hauled up with the ease of repetition. Zayn followed the last man up the ladder, slowly, feeling weary after the long day. Who could have known that negotiating for supplies would be so difficult? It seemed that everyone had noticed the political strain that had developed between Mullingar and Elysium and were battening down the hatches so to speak. It had been like shaving oak to get people to part with their food storages.

He stepped aboard and ran his hand along the wind and sea-smoothed railing, as was his custom when returning from a bout on land. “Did you miss me, old girl?” he whispered. Next, he stepped up to the top decks and went over to the wheel. He hadn’t been gone a day, but it was still comforting to come back and find everything the same, where it should be.

“Captain,” Lou greeted him as he approached. “How did you fare?”

“I don’t remember the people of Arcanum being so miserly before,” he answered. “But no harm done. We have what we need for the trip to Cheshire and on to Wolvecaster. We may need to beg some off of Liam when we get there, though, at least in order to make it to Velia.”

“You know he’s not going to like that. He hates when I stop in uninvited, let alone when I take things with me.”

“He’s going to have to accept that and much more during this visit,” Zayn warned.

“We’ll see,” Louis allowed.

“Can you get us on the move, First Mate?” Zayn asked next. “I think I’ll take a rest in my quarters until the seventh hour. Would you wake me at that time?”

“Yes, to both questions, Captain.”

“And please tell the Princess that we’re pulling anchor, so she can prepare herself.”

“I’m here, Ambassador.” Her voice didn’t sound as rough as it had the past few days. The lush quality it possessed had all but returned. “I came to bring back your flask.”

He turned to her. She had taken off her cap and her hair flowed around her in the wind like swirling black ink, reflecting the lamplight.

“Yes, thank you, Princess.”

She handed it to him delicately. “Unfortunately I did not leave any water left, so I hope your trip ashore was profitable in that regard.”

“Yes it was. If you would like, Mahir can take you to refill your own.”

“Thank you. That would be lovely.”

“And you heard we are going to be getting underway soon?” he clarified.

“Indeed I did.”

“I suggest you brace yourself, then.”

“I will do that.”

The exchange felt stilted and formal to him. They didn’t know how to relate to each other. Each discourse revealed new things about the other person and he knew for one that it was becoming more difficult to establish how to interact. At times he seemed to have the upper hand, and others, she did.

His thought was interrupted as she excused herself. She attempted to do a curtsy and bow, but only succeeded in looking foolish. She seemed to realize this and hurried away as fast as her unsteady legs would take her.

He chuckled under his breath and followed her path, much slower, down the steps. He then turned and, using his key, unlocked the door to his quarters positioned under the top deck. Not even bothering to remove his boots, he slumped onto the bed and drifted off.


	31. Secrets

Kalysta's POV

The minute the sails were unfurled and the anchor retracted she felt her stomach lurch. This time, though, she was able to control the urge to retch. It was controllable, but still miserable. She wished she could have some privacy in which to be miserable, but there was nowhere in her room to be sick if the need arose.

She tried moving about the deck again, but eventually resigned herself to curling upon the extra sail fabric again. Sleep made the time pass more quickly at least.

—- —- —- —- —- —- —- —- —— —-

_"Princess, you're supposed to be watching this," a voice said._

_Kalysta opened her eyes and looked around. She was sitting in the council chambers. What was going on? She stiffened in surprise as the scene took shape around her._

_Prince Niall of Mullingar sat next to her at the table of the council chambers. In front of them, Mullingan guards held her father, mother, and brother on their knees and had swords to their throats_.

_"You understand, we can't have any threats to our rule, don't you?" the Prince asked, his low voice cajoling, even comforting, which belied the fear and anger she felt. "They have to go and you need to agree with it, or you'll join them." His tone turned sinister at the last._

_She tried to cry out, to protest, to fight back, anything, but all of her body seemed frozen. Every part of her was immoveable and, as she sat there silent, the guards dragged the blades across the throats of their prisoners, her family._

_Red lines appeared on their necks where the blades had been and as blood poured from the wounds all three wore shocked expressions. Then, as one, their dead eyes turned to look at her, accusing and angry. They seemed to say "Why didn't you stop this?" ___

____

____

____

She woke weeping, shuddering.

____

"Princess Kalysta?" someone shook her. "Are you well?"

____

She couldn't answer.

____

The person put their arms under hers and pulled her into a sitting position.

____

"Princess Kalysta, what happened?" The voice and the arms belonged to the Ambassador.

____

She looked up at him, still shuddering, then covered her eyes, trying to scrub away the image of her family dying in front of her. It didn't work. Nor did it erase the irrational guilt that had welled up inside of her.

____

"I'll be well, soon enough," she answered, her voice shaking with the rest of her. "Just a dream."

____

"Alright, men, that's all," Louis' voice rose up. "There's nothing to see here. As you were. Back to your jobs."

____

"A dream?" the Ambassador asked, pulling her hands away from her face. "What sort of dream would cause such pain? You shouted loud enough to alert the entire ship."

____

She felt his fingers swipe at the tears that were now falling down her cheeks. An involuntary gasp escaped her at the contact. No matter how often he touched her she wasn't prepared for it.

____

A moment later he withdrew his hands and she finally met his gaze.

____

His brow was furrowed and he stared at her intently from where he knelt next to her.

____

"It was nothing," she lied, rising to her feet.

____

"Then I dread to see what you deem 'something'," he pointed out, joining her in standing. His voice was clearly uneasy.

____

"It's nothing I can't handle," she snapped, her fear and pain making her voice sharper than she really intended. "I can handle myself."

____

His eyes showed anger briefly at her quick rebuttal. Then, he seemed to fight with himself.

____

"It's a natural response to check on the well-being of someone who screams like death was upon them," he murmured. "If you'd like to discuss it or express a concern with me, you may."

____

He turned and strode off, his shoulders square and tensed in his anger.

____

Kalysta sighed, sitting down again and bringing her knees up to her chest so she could bury her face in them and hide. The fear of the dream still gripped her and she tried to keep calm. It was like a foretelling, a prophetic view into what would happen if she failed, and a look at the consequences of a "diplomatic" takeover by Mullingar.

____

As her heart slowed, she realized the error of her treatment of the Ambassador. She'd have to apologize, but she couldn't help herself. What was she supposed to say to him? She was tired of appearing weak in front of this man, between sickness and this horrible dream.

____

Fear of sleep made her stand and roam the deck. She avoided the helm where the Ambassador stood at the wheel. Eventually she'd have to apologize, but it wasn't going to be now. The immediate moment was being spent ridding herself of the earth-shattering vision in her mind.

____

It was late morning, the sun was well above the horizon and she felt its heat on her skin. As a Princess, she hadn't been allowed to tarnish her skin with the sun's rays because it made her appear as the lower classes. Somehow, even her country where things were better than others, they still had enough of a difference in classes to allow for such prejudice. She welcomed this change now.

____

It then occurred to her that she no longer felt ill. As she moved about, staying out of the crew's way, she marveled at the stability she felt. With this thought, she realized how dirty she was. Having the preoccupation of illness, she hadn't really paid attention before. Now, it almost seemed unbearable.

____

She fled to the hatch and down belowdecks to find her bags, where she promptly changed clothing. That wasn't enough to rid the feeling that only bathing could help, but it would have to do. She gritted her teeth and returned to the deck.

____

She wasn't there long before one of the crew stopped to look at her intently.

____

"Princess," he said warily, "if you don't mind my mentioning it, you may not want to be on deck for too long outside in the sun."

____

"I don't mind, sailor," she answered, "but what do you mean? I'm not afraid of my skin darkening."

____

"I don't know how to be saying it proper, but it will be a bit before your skin darkens," he pointed out. "You gonna burn before that. You've been in the shadows of the topdecks so you haven't had a problem before, but if you gonna be up and about then it gonna hit you. Best not let it leech you until you're more used to it."

____

"I thank you for the thought, Sir..."

____

"I'm no Sir, Majesty, just named Rahman."

____

"Thank you kindly Mr. Rahman," she spoke, staying polite, "I'll keep that in mind."

____

The man smiled a crooked and gap-toothed grin before returning to his duty.

____

He was probably right. She definitely wasn't use to sunlight. This thought made her sigh again and flee the decks for her room once more.

____

When she reached it, she decided to actually sit on her bed. However tired she was, though, she couldn't bring herself to lay down again. The nightmare was still too real in her mind.

____

—- —- —- —- —- —- —-

____

She passed time looking through each of her bags individually, taking stock of what she had. Not only had Delia packed men's clothing, but women's clothing that fit the different classes. Kalysta would be able to be anyone she needed in order to get the help of the other nations.

____

A knock at the door interrupted her.

____

"Princess Kalysta?" It was the Ambassador.

____

"I don't wish to discuss anything or express concerns, Ambassador," she snapped.

____

"Did I say that was why I was here?" he shouted back through the door.

____

She opened the door abruptly, almost running into him. "Then do explain why you're bothering me."

____

"I'm surprised at your reaction, Princess," Zayn commented, "after how many times you bothered me in my bedchamber."

____

"Yes, and you alluded as to other reasons for my being there," she hissed.

____

"False," he countered. "I said others might draw allusions for your frequent visits." His sarcastic smile infuriated her.

____

"Would you please just explain why you're here?" she sighed.

____

"I thought it best to confer with you as to how to speak with King Harry effectively," Zayn admitted. "I've spoken with him often on this subject and I know his arguments. For us to effectively persuade him, you'll need to be made aware of his tastes and habits."

____

"Very well."

____

"Louis and I will meet with you now, if you're available."

____

"As if there's anything productive for me to do."

____

"Then come with me."

____

He stood back and gestured for her to join him.

____

"Though I am wondering whether you'd like to share about the... incident on deck earlier," he said as the climbed the ladder to the deck.

____

"I didn't tell you then, and I won't tell you now."

____


	32. Lamia Malik

Zayn led the way and opened the door leading to the room underneath the top deck.

As she stepped in, she discerned in the dim lighting a bed toward the back window, a wardrobe against the right wall, and a desk against the left.

“Is this your room?” she asked, surprised.

“Does that bother you?” he laughed, clearly happy at the thought.

“This isn’t the first time I’ve had to be in your room, obviously, so no it does not.”

“Not the first time?” Louis’ voice asked from behind them. He stepped into the room, smiling just as snidely as Zayn, if that was possible.

“Oh, by the gods, not you too!” she complained. “Not in that way, and you well know it!”

Both men laughed at her discomfort.

“Let’s get this over with, shall we?” she suggested.

“Of course,” Louis agreed. He pulled the chair from the desk and gestured to it as an offer for her to sit.

“No, thank you.”

Louis took the seat at her decline and slouched down, putting his hands behind his head.

“What do you know about Harry, Princess?” he asked.

“I know he places great import on human life and religion,” she replied, drawing on the things Elysium’s spies had brought her. “His lands furnish most of the resources that the other nations use, and he employs the most skilled laborers and artisans in every trade. Though he does not have much organized military, he has provided enough to protect merchants in their travels and to deter bandits. However, in the likelihood of war, he would be hard-pressed to train more troops as his country pertains more to pleasure than protection. That is the crux of what I know.”

“I’ll tell you more about him personally, then,” Zayn offered, moving about the room aimlessly.

“There is much you’ll need to be conscientious of when addressing him,” he instructed. “He is very polite and calm and expects the same from those he gives audience to. As well, those in Cheshire put great value in the iron control over emotion, as it is in Bradford. As such, he will not tolerate fits of anger or outbursts of displeasure.” He gave her a knowing look at this last statement.

“I beg your pardon, I am perfectly capable of controlling myself!” she protested.

“Yes, I’m sure you are,” Louis sighed, “but your response just now proves just how much you’ll need to work on controlling your emotions. How will you behave if the King degrades you or women in general? Or if he belittles your father’s rule and policy? I was in that council chamber when Zayn snubbed your father and you weren’t exactly the picture of decorum.”

“I think I’ll be fine,” Kalysta snapped. She couldn’t believe this! They were acting as if she would jeopardize the entire thing out of pride! It was insulting!

“Princess, I simply express this concern because I don’t believe you’ve ever had to practice much control over your emotions,” Louis commented. His tone was genial and kind, but those words were like fuel to her anger.

“If you don’t think I’ll take this seriously then we have nothing more to discuss,” she said, turning to the door. “I will do my utmost to see that we succeed so just remember that.” She slammed the door behind her. It was petty, but she didn’t want to stand there and listen to them tell her she couldn’t set aside her own feelings in order to win over the most important nation to their cause.

She walked over to the railing and looked out on the water. Her anger was boiling over, so she gripped the railing until her fingers hurt. The things she had to do to help people!

The door opened and Zayn walked out. He strolled over to her.

“Would you care to explain what happened in there just now?” he asked quietly. “You wish for us to treat you like an adult, to take you seriously and trust you in front of the other rulers and you then throw a fit worthy of a child whose toy was taken away. It doesn’t exactly inspire confidence.”

“You’ve already lost everything,” Kalysta said quietly, lashing out with her words in lieu of showing emotion. “Bradford is already under Murdoch’s control. My country is the one on the line and there’s nothing more important to me. I’ve expressed this to you both, saying how important it is to me and the lengths I’m willing to go to. I may have been cossetted, but I know enough to realize what matters.”

“I know that,” Zayn answered, expression impassive.

“How are you any different?” she continued. “You led the same life as I have, a son of a royal, and perhaps even more freedom since you couldn’t be the heir. I’m doing the best I can and I tire of your hypocrisy.”

He look away so she couldn’t tell his reaction to her words at first and was silent for some time. She wondered if she’d taken it too far.

“My mother was a strikingly elegant woman,” he spoke finally, turning to her. What was this about? “I remember that much of her. She had beautiful flowing black hair that she wore down, and bronzed skin, dark from the sun. We lived in a tiny house, almost a hut, at the edge of an equally small town in Bradford, because as an unwed mother she was treated with disdain and hatred by most. We lived quietly, no one really disturbed us as long as we kept to ourselves. She would sing to me to help me sleep. She would work outside all day, tending the garden and the few chickens we had because that was the only way we could eat. Then, she would come inside, fix me food, and teach me my lessons. She wanted me to start education early. It was a simple, lovely life.

“But when I was five, Murdoch came to fetch me,” he continued, turning to face her, “and he came personally. Even illegitimate, I was still too important to let alone. He brought his brutes with him and they beat her in front of me when she fought to keep them from taking me. She begged them not to go, to let me stay with her for another year at least, but Murdoch threw her on the ground and spat on her before having me dragged from the house. She tried to follow, but they beat her down again. As I was being carried away, I looked back, and she was crying in the dirt outside our house.”

She felt sick at his words.

“When I reached the age of twenty,” he said, voice cold, “I was considered a full adult in Mullingar and could do as I wished. The first thing I did was return to Bradford in an attempt to find my mother. Upon reaching my old village, I was informed that she’d died ten years before, taken in the fever that had swept through at the time. She had died before I could come back to her, and tell her how much I loved her, how much her influence in the beginning helped me from following in my father’s footsteps.”

Kalysta was ashamed. She couldn’t look at him anymore, so she looked down at the railing, doing her best to hide the emotions welling up inside of her: sorrow, compassion, sympathy, and anger. A tear slid down her nose as she thought of him as a little boy, dragged away from the only home he ever knew.

He moved closer and she felt his fingers under her chin, lifting her gaze to look him in the eye again. This close, she could see the flecks of gold amidst the brown. And she saw the pain in them. She knew how much he’d been affected and even more why this was important to him.

He cupped her face in his hands, brushing away the silent tears that she wished she could keep away from him. Yet another moment of vulnerability that added to all he could hold over her. However, he wasn’t looking down on her, figuratively speaking. He held her gaze with an expression that tore at her because it was part sorrow and something she couldn’t identify. She felt a portion of the wall between them come crashing down.

“Oh, Princess, I didn’t mean to upset you,” he whispered. “It’s not your pity that I desire, but your understanding. We are just as dedicated to this endeavor as you. None on this ship has led a comfortable existence, for being comfortable involves willful ignorance of the injustices in this world. It was not my intent to call you a child, nor have I ever viewed you as such.” His expression was so earnest that she couldn’t help but believe him.

As they stood there, his hands still on her cheeks, she felt a subtle shift in herself. It was something small that had been developing since the moment they met, but it grew more tangible as he held her focus. And she couldn’t face it.

Breaking from his grasp, she looked down and said, “Yes, I am glad we've come to this point of mutual realization.” She sounded stilted, but she was fighting the side of herself that told her to stay right there with him. Turning, she all but fled to her quarters belowdecks.

But she couldn’t flee herself, for the problem was within. What was she going to do?


	33. Diplomatic Matters

That evening, when she'd gotten her emotions under control, she emerged out on deck and marveled at how the weather had changed. The breeze blew warm air across her and she felt fresher for it. An early spring was a good omen. She looked out on the water, a new favorite pastime, even though the night was ink black a span out from the ship.

"Evening, Princess." The Ambassador came to join her. "How are you feeling?"

"I am well," she supplied, knowing he wasn't actually asking after her health, "and I would like to apologize for my behavior earlier."

"Do as you see fit."

"I know that I am not quite as adept at hiding my emotions as I pretend to be," she confessed. "I can be a little... prideful at times as well. With these things at the forefront of my mind, I want you to know that I am entirely committed to furthering the success of our mission. I will do what is necessary to train, but I request that we hold a level mutual respect as we work toward this. I will work hard and I am not impervious to constructive analysis."

"I believe that is amenable," Zayn commented.

"I can agree to this," Louis chimed in, walking up.

"Listening in is considered rude in every nation as far as I know," Kalysta chided, stepping back to include him in the conversation.

"When it involves me as well, then I would say I should be allowed to listen, no?" He wasn't apologetic at all. As she was getting more and more used to his personality he irritated her a bit less.

"How long until we reach Cheshire?" she asked, trying to move the discussion along.

"We'll be there midday tomorrow," Louis answered. "We'll leave almost immediately from Vitonen to reach Quintus."

"Will we be staying somewhere tomorrow evening?"

"Yes, there is a town we'll reach by then." Zayn took a turn answering this time. "We can't appear before the King looking bedraggled and weary. He'll set great precedence on our appearance."

"There is enough time to continue our previous discussions tonight, then?"

"Indeed." Zayn motioned her back toward his quarters.

—- —- —- —- —- —- —- —- —-

They talked through the night, strategizing and establishing tactics for talking to the King.

"Will Harry acknowledge me?" she asked. She was seated in the chair this time, Zayn was pacing again, and Louis was sat on the edge of the bed, chin in his hand and elbows on his knees. "I am aware that not every ruler will accept me as heir, or allow me to carry the authority of my father. Should I leave the talking to you?" She addressed Zayn specifically.

"If you have my support and you hold respect, he will be receptive to you," he answered. "One slip in etiquette or decorum, though, and you will lose that." The warning was clear and she tamped down the anger that wanted to rise. He'd said it in warning, not censure.

She bowed her head in acknowledgement.

"Very well, let us continue with what exactly we wish to tell him," Louis directed.

They talked long into the evening. Eventually, Louis sprawled himself out on the bed, arms behind his head, but Zayn continued his pacing.

"When we arrive in Cheshire we'll need to keep you in disguise as a young man in my entourage," Zayn instructed. "I will go before the King first and give word as to our true intentions for being there, and he will take us aside to meet with him privately. At that time, you will join me in meeting with him and you'll dress to your station."

"How are you to give him word of our true intentions without arousing interest?"

"I have... a word that I agreed upon with each ruler that, when used in opening discussions, means I need to talk with them in the absence of their advisors. They're all aware that their advisors could contain Murdoch's lackeys."

"How did you get all the rulers to trust you?" It seemed strange that he could get the ear of every one.

"It took time and convincing," he offered, sighing, "particularly since the last Mullingan ambassador was so forceful. I had to invest much, and all while portraying to the general people that I was just as vehement in scaring the kings into obedience to Murdoch. The situation necessitated care and caution in how I approached each of them."

Kalysta stayed silent in thought for a moment. "That's going to be interesting to see," she allowed, "but I'm going to get rest now, if possible, because I have a feeling the next few days are not going to be very productive in that regard."

"Yes, that's a good idea," Louis agreed, standing up easily. "We'll all need it."

"Good evening Ambassador, First Mate," she said in parting, heading for the door.

"Good evening, Princess," Louis responded, followed by a "Sleep well, Princess," from the Ambassador.

Going to her cabin belowdecks, she firmly talked herself out of the fear she could feel welling up. Sleep didn't sound appealing in the slightest, not when nightmares waited to receive her, no doubt, but what she had said was true. She needed to be well-rested in order to convince one of the most powerful men in Dalitrise that he should help her.

—- —- —- —- —- —- —- —- —-

She woke late in the morning, her nervousness preventing her from getting anything better. This was the start of it and now that the time had come she was beginning to feel the pressure even more. Things could either go really well or really poorly and the chance of failure had her waking up often and finally staying awake.

She emerged out on deck and the men were busy. Louis was walking among them, saying a word here and there of instruction. A glance to the topdeck showed Ambassador Zayn at the wheel, staring intently ahead and looking to his compass at intervals.

"You're up earlier than I expected," Louis said, approaching her.

"Oddly enough, I'm having trouble sleeping," she commented. She stretched a bit and squinted in the sunlight.

"There's not enough on your mind, I'm sure." His chuckle brought more attention to his easy-going manner.

"How old are you, First Mate Louis?" she asked, pondering his happiness with abandon, coupled with his moments of seriousness when faced with their predicament.

"A title before my name is not required, Princess."

"It's improper to address you by your first name, though."

"I assure you, Princess, I am not one you need to address that way."

"Very well, Louis, how old are you?"

"This winter was my twenty-seventh," he answered quietly.

"Do you have any family?" She couldn't fathom why she was allowing her curiosity to creep up.

His discomfort was obvious and he looked away.

"Princess, it's good that you're awake," Zayn spoke, walking up. "We're ahead of schedule," he said next. "We'll be arriving at Vitonen in the next hour or so."

Louis exuded relief almost palpably at the subject change. Again, this was suspicious, but she purposed to let it pass until a better time.

"What's the plan when we arrive?" she asked the Ambassador.

"We'll take your horse with us, buy our own when we get ashore, and leave immediately to head inland."

"Who is coming with us?"

"We have to travel fast, so only one other man." The Ambassador shifted before continuing. "Mahir will work nicely."

"What can I bring?"

"Bring the clothes you're wearing and that's it," he answered. "We'll buy you appropriate clothing when we reach Quintus. I doubt travel would suit any of your clothing well." He was silent for a moment. "Louis and I will do the same."

"Very well."

Louis moved away first, saying, "Things need done."

"Yes, that's true," Zayn sighed, bowing a bit. "I need to be back at the helm. Princess." He stepped away.

Louis was already calling to the other men.

She stayed on deck and watched the process until a man at the top of the mast yelled, "Land ho! Vitonen off starboard."

She moved to the front, the bow, and felt the turning of the ship. Looking back, she could see Zayn bracing the wheel and holding it to course, muscles straining.

They grew closer to the land-mass on the horizon, and she loved the feeling of wind as they gained speed. The bow dipped and rose, making her move to regain balance. The sea-spray felt nice as the day was beginning to grow warm.

When they reached some determined point unknown to her the skiffs were lowered into the water and Starling was brought from belowdecks. Kalysta regretted not seeing after his care during the voyage, but he appeared to have fared the trip better than she had. His nostrils flared and his widened eyes showed fear as he was loaded into the skiffs, but that was better than her own reaction to sea travel.

"Remember, Cain," Zayn instructed, "take the ship farther out to sea when we push off. Watch the shoreline for our signal and switch rotations every other day for who gets leave."

"Yes, Captain," the man answered.

They climbed aboard, Kalysta, Zayn, Louis, and several other men in one boat and the other men split into two other boats.

They moved away from the Partheos, six men on the oars. At first, the regular men were manning the oars, but then Zayn and Louis stepped in to do their part. Not before Zayn removed his vest and shirt, however. Kalysta tried to keep her eyes averted initially, but it seemed futile. She decided she'd just turn her head every so often so as not to appear to be staring. Still, she was able to see him quite well. Part of being a Princess meant she didn't participate in manual labor, nor was she really aware of its necessities. This aspect was very educational, seeing the way his shoulders contracted, his muscles pressed against his dark skin, and the sweat beaded on his forehead first and eventually the rest of him.

When she was able to truly drag her eyes away, she saw that the others were in the same condition, drenched in sweat under the increasing rays of the rising sun. She wondered whether or not there was a way to make the work easier and cooler for them.

"Ambassador?" she asked.

He grunted in acknowledgement, never ceasing in the oar strokes.

"If I found a way to pour water over you and your men's heads would they welcome that?"

"Most likely," he breathed, "but ask first."

She ripped of a portion of the bottom leg of her trousers and poured out water from her canteen onto the rag. Then she moved to the first man.

"Sir, would you like some water over your head?"

"I'd be much obliged, Princess," he answered.

She wrung out the rag, poured some more and wrung it out over him again. It was going to be a bit of a trip to shore.

"Thank ya kindly, Milady," he breathed.

"Of course."

She wetted the cloth and moved carefully to the next man, doing her best to keep balance on the tipping vessel. This necessitated crawling along the middle between the two rows of men in a very un-Princess-like fashion. None turned down the offer of the fresh water over their faces and all thanked her.

She reached Zayn and he smiled. "I would welcome it gladly, Princess," he said quickly between strokes of the oar.

She obliged, trying not to watch the trails of water that ran down his neck and back. He flipped his hair a bit, ridding himself of some of the droplets clinging there and getting the strands out of his eyes.

She took a breath and moved away, but returned and did the same when the men switched, some resting and the others moving back to the oars. Each and every man thanked her, which made her wonder why Zayn had warned her against speaking with them. They seemed polite enough.

The city port came into view better and it was already apparent that it was bigger and more prosperous than Westtown. Ships and boats were at dock and there was a bustle unparalleled by anything she'd seen anywhere else. They approached the docks and ropes were thrown to them. Louis caught one and Mahir the other and together they hauled the boat in closer to the dock.

"Your name and purpose," a man said, offering a hand to Zayn.

"Ambassador Zayn of Mullingar, here on diplomatic matters to see the King."

The man looked surprised, but kept his decorum.

"Welcome back, Ambassador," the man said. "We wish you comfort and peace in your travels of Cheshire."

"Thank you," Zayn replied, dipping his head. He then turned to help the other men to the deck. Mahir joined him and the tow pulled her up, followed by Louis.

Starling was lifted from the skiff and placed on the dock where he immediately settled considerably, being on land. He moved toward her and she was glad for his presence. She turned her face the horse's shoulder, hiding her face from the crowds of people.

She stood, still clad in trousers and her hair hidden under her hat, among the men and still felt exposed, like all the people moving about would know her identity immediately. The med had enclosed around her, seemingly without thought, but she surmised that they'd been instructed to do this as surreptitiously as possible.

"Alright, men," Zayn said, turning to them, "you're on leave until we return. Be careful, follow customs and be courteous to our hosts. Don't make me regret bringing you scum ashore."

The men chuckled and slapped his shoulder on the way off the docks with comments of "Thanks, Captain" and "Safe travels, Captain."

When they were gone he turned to the harbormaster and asked, "Could you tell me somewhere that would sell good horses."

"Of course, Ambassador, the King's Grace Inn has well-bred stock in horses at a fair price," the man answered. He pointed to the southeast. "If you take the main road you'll pass right by it."

"Thank you, Sir," Zayn replied, offering the man several coins.

"The King doesn't allow charge for docking, Master," the man said quickly, holding up a hand.

"For your help," Zayn continued, holding out the coins again.

"You're a very kind, Sir."

Zayn nodded and motioned forward. Now, it was just her, Zayn, Louis, and Mahir. This was definitely a smaller group, but it would allow for faster travel.

"We'll get something to eat and buy what we need before we're on our way," Zayn said, stepping forward. Kalysta followed, Starling trailing behind as she held his reins, and Louis and Mahir filled in on either side of her so that she was boxed in.

"Yes, this doesn't look suspicious at all," she grumbled.

Louis snickered. "I think you'll find that no one here will pay you any mind."


	34. Louis's Contribution

It was true. As they got further into the city, there were so many people that she couldn't understand how they all fit in such close proximity without detriment to health and mental status.

The second surprise was the grandeur. "Where are all the beggars?" she asked aloud. How was it possible to eliminate poverty?

"They've been taken care of." It was Zayn that replied, looking over his shoulder at her briefly as they picked their way through the crowded streets. "Harry's mother and father played a significant role in establishing religion as part of the state government. Part of this meant forming a state where there were no poor people, no one impoverished or without a home."

Kalysta looked at the beautiful stone and brick buildings and the cleanliness of the streets. Neither Haven, her own Royal City, nor Westtown were slovenly, per se, but they had that lived in, messy look that she thought typical of cities. As well, people here were dressed cleanly and richly. There were obvious differences in fashion, which seemed to indicate class, but they were all about doing something, selling, buying. It was industrious, productive.

"This isn't even the Royal City," she commented.

"Quintus is much grander," Mahir responded, sounding excited.

"If Murdoch truly cared about disintegration of the class system then he would have started here first," she complained quietly, "but I suppose Cheshire is a much more formidable opponent than Elysium would pose."

The others were silent on the matter and she let it drop. They walked down the main street and when they reached The King's Grace Inn they stopped.

Zayn addressed Mahir. "I'll have you stay here and take care of getting the horses. Remember, don't let them flatter you into overpaying; you know how the Cheshine people can be. We need three good horses and make sure they have the stamina to keep pace with the Princess's horse."

"Starling," Kalysta supplied.

"Yes, to keep pace with Starling here." Zayn gave the horse a quick pat.

"Understood, Ambassador."

Mahir stepped into the inn.

"How will he buy three good horses?" she questioned.

"He's the one that keeps track of the purse," Louis said, turning to lead the way past the inn. "He's good with money."

They stepped away, moving down the road, Louis leading now, followed by Zayn and then Kalysta.

"What are we doing now?" She switched the reins behind her to grasp them in her other hand. Starling followed placidly.

"We need proper clothing. Ours is fit for sailing, but not for representatives of a King. We can't even arrive in Quintus dressed like this." Zayn's voice turned wry. "Your ripped ones would definitely not do."

"You weren't complaining when you were being cooled off with water from my ripped clothing," she answered evenly, doing her best to control her temper. How dare he be that ungrateful! She was already anxious from the unfamiliar atmosphere, but she had a feeling he was needling her on purpose, maybe as a test.

Just as she suspected, he chuckled. "That's true. It was for a good cause, but regardless, my entourage is expected to dress properly."

The rest of the walk was in silence and she felt her anger melt away as she once again stared at the sights around her.

The city was thriving. There was no other way to describe it. Despite a hard winter experienced across the nations, people here were selling wares in little stands on the streets. Especially note-worthy were the artists' stands, holding exquisite pottery and paintings. Even in Elysium only the nobles and Royals could afford such trinkets and trivial items. Here, a baker was seen crossing the street to buy a purely aesthetic jar from a potter. The jar was simply too small to serve any purpose. At one point, she saw a stand where a man was clearly tattooing another. She almost stopped to watch the process, but didn't want to show how curious she was about it. It definitely was no oddity to have a tattoo here, but neither was it strange for someone to not have them. It varied widely. The two tattooed men in front of her fit in well, and so did she. The concept was strange to her.

Also of note were the number of temples. Although the Cheshire people served only one god, there were multiple temples on a single street, whereas in Elysium there was one temple per town or city, where several gods were worshipped in separate antechambers.

"Why are there so many temples?"

"They're called chapels in Cheshire," Zayn corrected her quickly. "They worship a singular god, Ornan, but they all seem to disagree on the best way to do so. They visit the chapel that agrees with their individual viewpoint."

"That doesn't seem practical."

"It's worked for them so far." Louis gave his input now.

"It appears so."

They walked on in silence and Kalysta continued analyzing the things around her until Louis led them to a seamstress's shop.

"Beatrice!" he called, walking in without knocking. Zayn and Kalysta followed.

A woman turned from a display of fabric as they stepped into the main room. She was slightly older, probably 30 years of age.

Louis held his arms out as he approached as if expecting a warm welcome, but he stopped halfway at the look she gave him. She had put her hands on her hips and glared at him. It was evident that she was not as happy to see him as he had been hoping.

"Oh, look who's returned!" Her voice was sultry, even in anger, and Kalysta could see she was considerably beautiful. She was filled out, but not uneven in size, her enviable figure proportioned in all the right places. Although short, she gave off a feeling of authority, even in the face of these men. "You're gone for a year and I don't get to hear anything?" she continued. "Not a letter? Not a message at all? Don't come in here expecting a kiss and a cuddle after that." She turned back to the display and yanked lengths of cloth at random, straightening already well-hung fabric.

Louis sighed and walked forward, wrapping his arms around her waist and putting his head over her left shoulder. The woman resisted initially, but Kalysta watched in surprise and a bit of disgust as Louis whispered in her ear and Beatrice's demeanor softened. She seemed to relax into his embrace, resting her head back on his shoulder. He placed a languid kiss to her cheek, whispered something else, and she let out a very feminine giggle.

Kalysta turned away, slightly disturbed.

After a moment of indistinguishable murmuring, Zayn cleared his throat. "Can we carry on?" He sounded weary.

"Of course," the woman said, becoming business-like in an instance. "I'm sorry for that. What can I help you with, Ambassador?"

Kalysta turned. The woman was facing them again, with Louis standing at her side, an arm wrapped around her waist.

"We need full outfitting for travel, but ultimately... We need complete discretion." Zayn's voice was low and intent.

Beatrice looked surprised for a moment, then locked her gaze on Kalysta. "Who is this? You've never had a woman in your entourage before."

"She's someone of utmost importance and she needs to meet with your King."

"Yes, she holds herself like she's important." Her words rankled Kalysta.

"Easy." Louis' admonishment was quiet and he kissed her cheek once more.

"Come, let's get you all measured," she said, moving away from Louis and bustling about. "How soon do you need this done?"

"Within the hour if you can manage it," Zayn said. "We need to leave as soon as possible."

"Are you sure you can't stay for the evening?" she pouted, stopping for a moment to look at Louis. "You've only just arrived!"

"This is all time sensitive, love," Louis said. "Quick as could be, please."

The woman sighed and nodded. "Let me go get my girls together. We'll start right away."

"The girls can measure us," Zayn commanded. "I don't want them getting a good look at the-" He stopped and continued, "At Lyra here. I would ask that you take her to the back and measure her yourself."

Beatrice huffed.

"Complete discretion, please."

"How is the Lady Lyra to be dressed?" She looked a little scandalized at Kalysta's outfit. "Would a proper noble's garb be in order?"

"Actually, I would prefer if you would disguise her as a male. It's necessary that we keep her presence unnoticed. As you so intelligently pointed out, I don't have women in my retinue. To keep from drawing attention I would like her dressed properly as a man with clothing that disguises her... figure." Zayn's voice strangled a bit at the last part and Kalysta couldn't figure out where his sudden sense of propriety had come from. It was gratifying to see how awkward he seemed, though, a pleasant change from them irritating her and making her feel uncomfortable.

Beatrice snorted derision. "Very well. Come with me, Miss Lyra."

Kalysta did as she was told, moving with her to a back area, shielded by a hanging tapestry.

"Wait here while I get my assistants to help the man-child and the Ambassador."

It didn't take long.

When she returned, Beatrice said, "Remove your outer clothing, please."

Despite her trepidation, Kalysta obliged, standing before Beatrice in her undergarments.

"Luckily your bosom isn't large enough to cause any real difficulties, but we'll have to wrap you up just to make sure." She grabbed a swath of fabric and moved toward Kalysta before stopping and wrinkling her nose. "You need to bathe more than anything."

Kalysta scoffed exasperatedly. "I'm well aware of that."

Beatrice gave a start. "You're Elysian?" she gasped. Clearly, she'd heard the accent.

Kalysta sighed, wondering how trustworthy this woman was. "Yes, I suppose there's no hiding that now."

"What are you doing? What did those two pull you into?"

"I'm not sure how much I'm allowed to tell you." Kalysta did her best to pretend that she wasn't Royal, that she actually had to answer to Zayn and Louis.

Beatrice gave her a look. "You're not the Ambassador's... woman, are you?" Her tone told Kalysta exactly what she meant. "I saw the way he looked at you."

"Oh! No! No, no, no, no!" Her protests were probably too vehement, but Kalysta would never allow a rumor like that to start, even if no one knew her real identity. "That is most definitely not the case. I... I'm a noble. I came to beg the King. I don't have my king's authority, and that's why I hide my identity. I'm a lesser noble, but I can see what's happening. King Jonathan of Elysium is just... not doing anything. Perhaps King Harry will help us when the time comes."

"You have to keep from drawing attention because you'll get in trouble?" Beatrice surmised. "A king never likes someone working behind his back."

"Yes," Kalysta responded, looking down in a semblance of shame and fear, but it was really to hide her face. She was afraid that the woman would see the lie there, and be further curious.

"I suppose I can see the need for discretion, then." Beatrice looked weary. "When the Ambassador shared his true intentions a year ago I was surprised. But I see the need."

"You know everything?"

"Not everything, by a long shot. They needed a watch in this city, though, and I already knew Louis."

"Yes, I figured that out, actually," Kalysta said wryly.

Beatrice gave her a look as she pulled out a measuring line. "Who are you to judge? What do you know of me or my life?"

Kalysta had to swallow her quick retort. Yes, getting out of the castle was really teaching her about controlling her temper.

"I was saying what I noticed, not passing my opinion."

"Hmph," Beatrice retorted. "Regardless of your opinion or what is going on, you need my help and I need to work quickly. No more talking."


	35. Travel Troubles

The clothing given to Kalysta was loose-fitting to complete her masculine look, but it was obviously well-designed, fitting for an ambassador's entourage member. Beatrice had even taken the time to pin her hair up under the hat more securely. New sturdy leather boots completed the look and she felt completely different.

"It's the best I can do with the time I was given," the woman sighed. Despite the work, she didn't seem satisfied.

They stepped out of the back room and Kalysta took in the two men as they talked with the other seamstresses. Beatrice had called the other seamstresses "girls", but they looked to be older than Kalysta, more around the men's ages actually. The women laughed at something Louis said and were fiddling with the men's new clothes, apparently creating excuses to put hands all over them. The men's clothing was also well-made. Zayn sported a crisp white shirt, new black trousers, a red overcoat, and his same boots. Louis wore some semblance of the same thing in green.

Kalysta wanted to talk, but stayed silent, remembering that Beatrice had placed her accent immediately.

The girls looked at her and looked away, thinking her a young boy. Beatrice had done well.

"Alright, girls, the Ambassador needs to go," Beatrice said. The two women moped, but released them.

Louis went to Beatrice unashamedly, pulling her close and kissing her deeply. Again, Kalysta looked away, wondering how often this was going to happen. Beatrice seemed fine with him now, forgetting her earlier anger. It was a bit ridiculous that a man could get away with things just with a bit of attention.

Zayn dropped some gold on the counter and gestured to Kalysta to follow him. She did, stepping out the door.

Her stomach rumbled.

"We'll get something to eat at the King's Grace." Zayn's quick assurance was comforting. "Then we'll be away. Mahir will definitely have the horses. He's probably off dicing now to get more coin."

"They have gambling here?" Kalysta was surprised. "I didn't think that would occur somewhere so religious."

"Of course, it's outlawed, but it's one of the few things that has survived the purge," Louis commented as he exited the shop, "that and alcohol."

"Is it not enforced?"

"Harry knows he'd be fighting a losing battle in that regard." Zayn started walking back toward the King's Grace. "He enforces what he can. If people are blatant about gambling or drinking in front of the guards or soldiers then it's punished, but people know better."

Kalysta walked for a moment silently, listening to the jingle of Starling's harness as he trod behind her. "It seems such a strange way to lead, willful ignorance."

"It's worked for them so far," Louis echoed his earlier comment.

Mahir was waiting for them when they reached the inn, with three horses on leads. "Took you long enough." He looked a bit bored.

"These were the best you could find?" Zayn sounded disappointed.

"There wasn't much to choose from!" Mahir complained. "They'll do! I'm sure they can keep up."

"We'll make do," Zayn conceded, sighing. "Thank you. Please arrange the horses in the inn's stable and join us inside. We're going to get at least one hot meal before we head to the Royal City."

Mahir nodded taking Starling's reins and leading the horses away.

Zayn turned and entered the inn, Louis and Kalysta following.

It was a well-built inn. The outside had made it look dingy, but the inside was much more hospitable, relatively clean.

"My name is Felicity and I run the King's Grace with my husband." A tall woman bustled up, wiping her hands on an apron. "How may I help you gentlemen? Do you need rooms?" The disguise Beatrice had done on her was good if this woman's address was anything to go by.

"No thank you, madam, we were simply in search of a good repast before continuing our journey," Zayn answered, adopting his polite voice.

"Very well, I'll seat you." She took them to a table in the corner. "Today it is vegetable soup, fresh bread and fruit on the menu."

"We'll take four servings," Zayn said. "Another of my men will be joining us."

"Of course. I'll have it right out."

They ate quickly and without incident. Kalysta wished she could savor it more, particularly following her bout with the mal-de-mer, but she knew they needed to leave quickly and start toward the Royal City of Quintus.

They procured food and supplies from Felicity and were on their way within the next hour.

— — — — — — — — —

The trip turned out much like the one with Louis to Westtown. However, they walked when not riding instead of running. Their pace was brisk, but not unmanageable, of which Kalysta was thankful. As well, she could truly sense how different the horses were. When the other horses grew tired Starling was still full of energy, so they were forced to slow and walk the horses more often.

The land they passed changed the farther they got from the coast, hills jutting up and trees breaking the horizon.

Several hours later, when the sun had gone down, Zayn called for a stop just outside a copse of trees. "We'll eat and rest for a bit," he said. "Uncinch the saddles a bit, but don't remove them completely. We'll be getting an early start in the morning and the horses can get a full rest in Quintus."

Kalysta did as the others, seeing to Starling's saddle and giving him food. She grabbed a blanket Zayn had provided and curled up on the ground, half forgetting what a real bed was like. Despite the tree root sticking into her back, she passed into a deep sleep quickly.

— — — — — —

It seemed like five minutes later when Zayn shook her awake. "It's time, Princess," he said, standing back up straight.

The sun was barely rising and Kalysta couldn't believe how tired she still felt. She joined the others in fixing up the saddles and then they all climbed rode to the southwest, the sun rising behind them. The rest of the day was a blur of galloping, eating while leading the horses, and fighting the drooping of her eyelids.

— — — —

They finally arrived in Quintus as night was falling again. Even in the night, Kalysta could see that it was spectacularly built and organized.

Zayn led them to an inn on the outskirts of the city called the Acolyte.

"What's the plan from here?" Kalysta asked as they got the horse's settled at the inn's stable. She was loath to leave Starling in someone else's hands for too long, but Zayn had assured her that the horse would be fine.

"We go before the King now," he said.


	36. Feverish Fancies

Kalysta was surprised, but Zayn led the way back into the city that evening after telling Mahir to stay at the inn.

"He's not coming with us?" she asked as they walked along the deserted streets.

"No, he'll stay there at the inn with our horses and collect the gossip we won't be able to get in the castle."

"Are we seeing the King tonight?"

"If we can manage it." Zayn was still walking purposefully. "If we get there in time we can at least get a private meeting planned for tomorrow."

"How will you do that?"

"Remember, I told you there are words I can say to each ruler that will subtly show them that we're here on behalf of the resistance," he answered, voice quiet. "We'll go before the King, I'll say his predetermined word and he'll schedule a private meeting with us for tomorrow. At least, that's what I'm hoping to achieve. We need to step up the pace." He quickened his feet and she followed suit with Louis bringing up the last. This also effectively stopped her questioning.

They couldn't have planned a better time to travel through the city. A few people were still moving about, but these usually hurried away or avoided their gaze. Overall, they avoided being seen and therefore avoided any form of detection.

"How are we getting in?" she asked, a little out of breath.

"We approach the front gates, of course," Louis said quietly. "No sneaking for us. We're going to be watched every minute now that we're here."

"I'm not in danger of being discovered am I?"

"Not if you keep your disguise on," Zayn chimed in.

They got closer to the castle and Kalysta felt all her fears compound. This was happening. She was going to go before King Harry and give her plea. His decision would spell either her salvation or her doom.

As they approached the main gates they heard a voice call, "What's your business here so late?"

"Ambassador Zayn of Mullingar after a bloody long journey, so if you'd kindly open up we'd like to actually accomplish the purpose we traveled here for." Zayn's voice came out harsh and demanding, nothing like what she'd grown accustomed to. Metaphorical masks were back on.

The main doors opened and a man stood inside waiting.

"This way, Ambassador and guests," he said. "I am His Majesty's man, George. May I ask as to the purpose of your visit?" He gestured for them to enter, motioning for the doors to be closed by two guards.

"There have been more developments in the negotiations with other countries and my father would like to assure himself as to whether or not your king stands on the right side," Zayn answered loftily, the threat clear.

The man, George, stiffened at the underlying tone and stepped forward, leading the way further into the castle.

"I'm sure His Majesty will be able to make his position clear."

The rest of the walk was made in tense silence. Kalysta grew more anxious as they continued, but kept her face blank. They were passing mostly guards and servants, both of which gave their group a wide berth. She could feel their stares as she went by, and the worry on their faces was clear when she dared to allow her gaze to wander. They knew who the Ambassador was and they were scared of him.

"I will need to announce you," George said once they reached a pair of ornate double doors. "If he does not allow admittance, then I will see you to your rooms and you may try again tomorrow."

"I hope for all your sakes that we are not turned away, hireling," Zayn snapped. His ruse was impeccable. He seemed exactly as he had when she first met him, cool, aloof, cynical, and domineering, nothing like the man she'd come to know on the Partheos. It was remarkable. Just like that, he was able to adopt the demeanor of a true Mullingan.

George was not as good with keeping a front. His face pinched, but he simply nodded before entering the room, closing the doors behind.

It was only a moment before he returned, motioning them inside the room hurriedly.

They stepped in.

"His Majesty King Harry recognizes Ambassador Zayn of Mullingar with retinue and grants them audience by his grace," George called out as their group walked down the carpeted leadway toward the thrones. There were guards and several nobles in the room. Obviously, they were interrupting a meeting of some kind, perhaps not unlike her own meetings in the council chambers in Elysium.

As they approached slowly, Kalysta was able to get her first good look at the ruler of Cheshire.

The King sat tall on his throne, the very picture of Cheshine royalty, with longer trimmed hair and fastidious clothing. His face would have seemed more kind if his eyes hadn't been slightly narrowed in suspicion. She couldn't blame him though. His queen, Layla, was perfectly poised in her seat as well, though her expression was much more open. Looks were deceiving, however, and as Zayn had reminded her, these people prided themselves on their ability to control their emotions. If Kalysta acted out in any way she knew it would jeopardize things.

It was with this in her mind that they reached the end of the carpet before the dais on which the Royal Family sat. Immediately, Zayn bowed at the waist, deeply. Louis caught Kalysta's eye and gave her a look that clearly expressed "Do as I do," before he dropped to one knee, bowing low. Kalysta followed suit, feeling foolish. She'd never had to bow before.

"Ambassador Zayn, I feel like it was only yesterday that you were paying Cheshire a call." The King's voice was low and even, carefully practiced. Even still, it was a deep drawl, falling pleasantly on Kalysta's ears. "To what do I owe the pleasure of this unannounced, rapid return?"

"Your Grace," Zayn began, rising to stand upright again, voice still lofty, "as always, my father is pleased that you continue to happily cooperate. However, new concerns have come up and I would like to mention that if events continue as they are, there will be war in Dalitrise." Louis and Kalysta joined him in standing, but again Louis caught her eye and by example directed her to keep her gaze straight ahead, at the Royal Family, and not anywhere to the sides.

King Harry was silent for a moment, staring down at them. Again, his emotions were carefully hidden, but he seemed to be contemplating the group.

Before it grew awkward he said, "I move that this meeting of countries be to the blood. Would you agree, love?" He turned to the Queen.

"I second the motion," she replied, meeting his gaze for a moment and then returning hers to the group, Kalysta in particular. Kalysta felt like she was a bug under intense scrutiny, like the Queen would be able to determine her identity, just with a look. Her already heightened anxiety spiked. Would these people even listen to her?

"Very well, Ambassador, we will meet tomorrow," the King said. "The meeting will be to the blood, with my bodyguard, Jeremiah, as witness. You may bring those in your retinue for witnesses if you wish."

"I thank you for your time and allowance, Your Grace," Zayn responded, showing formality in words, but failing to echo it in his tone.

Zayn bowed once more quickly and turned to exit. Louis and Kalysta mimicked similar bows and hurried after him, appearing as if they were simply his followers.

The walk was silent as George led them to the rooms they would be staying in. As part of Zayn's retinue, they would be staying in the same rooms as him. Kalysta could feel the pressure and worry crashing down on her as they approached.

Kalysta almost collapsed the minute the door closed behind George, but her fall made her bump into Zayn, who grabbed her arms out of reflex. He held her up for a moment, saying, "Kalysta, Princess, what's wrong?" but eventually he lowered her to sit on the floor, where she curled into herself and cried. The entirety of the situation crumbled in on her.

"By the gods," Louis swore, dropping to the floor as well. "What happened?"

"I don't know," Zayn breathed. "Princess, what is it?"

"I can't do it," she gasped, hiding her face. "It's too much. It's too much."

It was Zayn's turn to swear. He turned to Louis. "Get a pitcher of water," he commanded. "She's taken a bit of shock."

Louis left in a rush.

Zayn knelt close. "Tell me your mind, Princess." His voice was gentle, but sure. "Why this despair?"

"It's the dream," she cried.

"Tell me," Zayn pressed.

"I dreamed Prince Niall had taken over Elysium," she gasped, the scene returning unbidden to her mind. "He-he killed them, my whole family, right in front of me to secure his position as ruler. He made me watch as each of them were killed and I can't shake the feeling that if I don't persuade King Harry tomorrow then... that's what's going to happen. Maybe not immediately after, but if he gets his claws in Elysium it will happen eventually."

She felt him envelope her in his arms and the tears dropped faster. Her sobbing grew louder and Zayn simply pulled her closer. And they sat. She cried and he held her silently.

It was a long bit, but her tears passed and she simply stayed there, in the comforting arms of the Ambassador. He didn't pull away and neither did she. Eventually, her heart slowed some and she felt... peaceful.

"Is this what you hid from me on the ship?" he murmured.

"Yes." As she calmed, the embarrassment settled in. Yet again, she was weak and deplorable before him. "It's nothing to worry about, though." Her voice grew tense and she moved away, standing and walking across the room. She quickly mopped her face, trying to wipe away all the traces of her breakdown.

"Why do you try to hide, Princess? Your tears are already on my shirt." His voice was soft as he followed her. "You can flee, put on a face, feign anger, but I know better now. I know the burden you carry for it is as mine. Don't shut me out. I'm here; I'm listening. You don't have to bear this weight alone. You can try, but it will break you in time."

"You've already seen me at my lowest too often," she whispered, voice shaking.

"Do you think that matters?" he pressed. "If I've already seen your fear, your sorrow, then what could change? Do you think I would hold it against you, or think that you're weak? I can assure you, that is not the case." He placed a hand on her shoulder and gently turned her to look at him. "Feeling the weight of your duty is not something I look down on. I empathize and it's not something you should bottle up. You and I, we put on enough masks for other people. We should be able to be ourselves with one person at least."

His words began another barrage of sobs and she simply allowed them as he pulled her to him once more, holding her. Her face rested on his chest and she doused his shirt in more tears, finally letting herself show all the emotions she'd been keeping pent up. It was confusing, liberating.

When she was calm once more, he moved back a bit and looked her in the eye. She felt his hand brush lightly against her cheek before he placed it firmly to the side of her face, seeming to cradle it. The air became heavy and it took her a minute to remember how to breathe. His eyes drew her inward and she feared what she would find there, or perhaps wouldn't find.

The sound of the door opening signaled Louis' return and Zayn dropped his hand, though he did not step away.

"Are you well, Princess?" Louis asked, closing the door behind him. He held out the pitcher of water he'd obtained.

"I'm well, Louis," she answered, scrubbing at her eyes again before taking the pitcher. "Just a bit of fever."


	37. Before a King

"Princess."

The annoying voice didn't go away, no matter how much she tried to ignore it.

"Princess, you have to wake up." This time she identified it as Louis' voice.

"Let the world burn, I just want to sleep," she grumbled angrily, turning away from him.

"You're not one for mornings, I know that," he commented, "but you have to get up. Harry's not a man to be kept waiting."

This stirred her and she sat up, all her dread returning.

"Harry had food sent for breakfast as well, so get up quickly and your meal will still be hot."

"You should have led with that," Kalysta grumbled. "I would have been in a better mood."

"Next time I'll remember to feed the sleeping bear before prodding it," he said wryly, standing straight and going over to the set table.

"Where's the Ambassador?"

"He's getting the clothing you'll wear before the king."

"What do you mean?"

"You can't petition Harry in that and expect to be taken seriously," Louis scoffed. "It's already going to be difficult to attain his trust when he finds out you've been cavorting as a man. If you revealed yourself while still in men's clothing it wouldn't matter what you said; he'd write you off and not even listen. You'll wear your disguise until we're right outside his chambers and then you'll slip your ladylike garb on over the men's clothing and step in as yourself. It will provide an element of surprise and perhaps put him off balance enough that he'll actually be open to discussion."

Kalysta was flabbergasted. All the training from childhood and she still felt incompetent. She would have to rely heavily on this pair to get her through the challenge, to manage her best in her petition to Harry. Their insight and cues would be invaluable in the face of such a ruler.

She steeled herself, getting up to eat. Her breakdown from the night before was still filling her with a bit of embarrassment, but she did feel better. Zayn offering such comfort was a surprise; if she'd thought about her relationship with him a week ago she would have described him as a nuisance, an irritant, not someone she'd have a soul-baring ordeal with regarding duty. She wasn't completely at peace with Zayn, but she began to contemplate the idea that she could trust him.

With that thought, Zayn stepped in carrying a wrapped bundle.

"Sorry I'm late," he sighed. "The Royal seamstress has decided she wants to cause me as many problems as she can. I swore her to such secrecy making this that she assumes it's for my mistress."

Kalysta choked on the air she'd just breathed in and coughed in embarrassment.

Louis laughed at her reaction and Zayn grinned, clearly pleased with himself and the joke at her expense. "I couldn't exactly correct her, so if she left a pin in there, I'm sorry," he continued.

She gave them a disgruntled look, but didn't say anything, knowing how her every retort brought them even more hilarity. Besides, she needn't scold them for a joke simply because she was so dreadfully nervous.

The fresh bread and eggs were delicious, but the more she thought of the coming meeting, the less appetite she had.

"What does 'to the blood' mean?" she asked, attempting to distract herself.

"It's a term meaning the only ones present are the Royals and the guests they are meeting with," Louis answered. "They can have witnesses if they choose, but it's always loyal people. It's something Harry's father established and has worked well for our business."

"You'll need your strength, Princess," Zayn commented quietly, having noticed her withering appetite. "Don't let your nerves keep you from eating. Whatever the outcome you'll have done your best." It was a kind sentiment, but it didn't stop her stomach from turning.

She nodded in thanks for the thought and nibbled at some bread to placate him. In the meantime, she tried to steel herself and go over what Zayn and Louis had told her of Harry. She repeated to herself what she was going to say, but there was no way to predict how the King would react toward her identity and presence, let alone her actual petition. They could speculate, but it was purely conjecture. There was no precedent for this.

A knock at the door startled her a bit.

"That's George come to fetch us," Zayn said, standing quickly.

Kalysta looked into the reflective surface of the food tray and tucked up all the loose strands of her hair back into her cap. Then she turned and grabbed the bundle of women's clothing she would don in a moment.

"You may enter!" Louis called, acting in the role of servant.

George stepped in. "I'm here to bring you to my Majesty's presence," he said, folding his hands in front of him and waiting by the door.

Zayn moved forward and walked briskly from the room. Kalysta and Louis followed quickly and George brought up the rear. He hurried to the front a second later, leading them down several different hallways. Again, they passed countless servants and guards, but now there were nobles, waiting in the corridors too, pretending to have something to do, but most likely getting another glimpse of the group meeting privately with the Royal family.

Kalysta kept her head down, trying to keep her eyes averted from the nobles'. She felt as if she stood out, that one of them would call her out at any moment.

A final turn took them down a hallway that was conspicuously devoid of people. George stopped at the most ornate doors and gave a bow. "The King awaits," he said formally.

"As you were," Zayn ordered, not even acknowledging or thanking the man. George seemed used to it, though, because he just bowed again and walked away.

"Quickly," Zayn spouted, "put the dress on. People aren't allowed in this hallway during active meetings, but I don't want to take any chances."

Kalysta opened the bundle immediately and slipped into the dress. It was a fine cut, but ill-fitting as it would be over her men's clothing. Next, she pulled off the cap and took out the pins, letting her hair loose completely. The relief of having her hair loose from its bundle almost made her sigh audibly. She ran her fingers through it to allow some semblance of order, but couldn't do anything else to fix her appearance. Her hands shook.

"Are you ready?" Zayn asked, grasping one of the door handles.

"As ready as I can be," she breathed.

He opened the door and ushered her forward.

The minute she entered the room, Harry and the Queen showed visible surprise, something she did not expect. It was slight, a widening of their eyes and parting of their lips as they sucked in sharp breaths, but it was an emotion nonetheless.

"Who are you?" the King asked forcefully. "What right do you have in this audience?"

As she'd been instructed, Kalysta remained silent, simply curtsying when she reached the end of the walkway.

"King Harry, Queen Layla, may I present Kalysta, Princess of Elysium."

This time, their surprise showed in resounding gasps.

"No one would make such a claim in jest. What is the meaning of this, Ambassador?" Harry said evenly, belying his previous tone.

"The Princess has been my guest in secret aboard my ship," Zayn answered. "She requested my help in reaching you because her father is arranging her marriage to Prince Niall."

"Your guest?"

"She was the young boy you witnessed as part of my retinue last night when I arrived." This time, Zayn's voice was meek, as if he knew what their reaction would be.

"And she's been without chaperone the entire time?" This time it was the Queen that spoke up.

"I have been acting as chaperone, Your Majesty," Louis commented. "She was provided her own sleeping arrangements aboard the ship."

"Bearing in mind the reaction most of my maids and ladies-in-waiting had at your last departure, I am well aware that you are nowhere close to being an approved chaperone," she countered sarcastically, leaning forward.

Louis had the decency to look abashed.

"Keep your... attentions on those outside of my immediate servitude, and rest assured that we know you better than you think, Sir."

Kalysta was unbearably curious as to what the Queen meant, but she couldn't get distracted from the matter at hand. "Your Majesty, if I may have your permission to speak?" she asked, remembering her instructions on formality.

"Ambassador?" Harry asked.

"I can vouch for her," Zayn assured quickly. "She is aware of the situation and holds sway in Elysium as the Princess Heir."

"Very well, you may speak, child," the King said.

Kalysta gritted her teeth to keep her anger from getting the best of her at that title.

"I thank you, Your Grace," she said.

"The Ambassador has informed me of his resistance I have come on behalf of my country, my people, to ask, nay plead, that you reconsider your pledged position of neutrality. I am aware of your desire for peace, but I would beg that you look again at the situation that has arisen." As she spoke, her nervousness disappeared and the desperation, the passion she felt for her cause overwhelmed her. However, it was difficult to continue because he sat before her, impassive, stoic, intimidating and she almost couldn't speak past her pride. In an instant, she tamped that down, though, realizing that pride would be her pitfall in front of this man. There was nothing more important that saving her people, not her pride nor her own desires.

"As we speak," she continued, "Murdoch is planning ways to take over Elysium, much as he did with Bradford. He claims it is necessary due to Elysium's decline, that we need to be reined in before our detriments cause the other nations of Dalitrise to stumble.

"But I ask, where does it stop? Right now, it's Elysium. Tomorrow it may be Wolvecaster or Velia. He'll have you trapped, surrounded by water and the lands under his control with nowhere to flee. Again, I ask, where does it stop? How many more countries must fall under his fist before you act? You know that Elysium doesn't have the forces to expel Murdoch, or even hope to meet him in battle. For past sins, we've been required to keep our military limited. That makes us a nation ripe for taking and Murdoch knows this, just as he knows that our past sins make everyone else loathe to come to our aid.

"I beg your pity upon us. Murdoch would have all of Dalitrise under his rule now if he could, all six nations subject to his tyranny. With everything in me, I beg you to change your position and move to help us. Perhaps with the other nations backing Elysium we can stop King Murdoch's grasp before he crushes us all."

She finished, exhausted, hoping that she'd spoken respectfully enough for him not to deny her immediately.

Harry simply sat for a moment, staring at her, unmoving. It was a scare tactic, to further remind her that she was completely at his mercy. And it was working. She was terrified. She needed his help and she was truly scared of what it'd mean if he rejected her plea.

"I need time to think on what you've said, Princess." His voice was solemn, almost troubled. "I will commune with Ornan and see where He would have me go."

Kalysta was bewildered, but she hid it. "Thank you for your time," she managed to say, falling back on what they'd trained her to do, "and thank you for your consideration."

The King and Queen rose, moving out of the room through a back door, followed by their guard/witness. Kalysta curtsied deeply, Zayn and Louis bowed and they stayed like that until the rulers had left the room.


	38. Ambassador's Assurance

Kalysta slumped a bit, feeling like she'd been drained of all her energy.

"Your clothes, Princess," Zayn sighed. "Fix your appearance and we'll talk back at the room. I wouldn't be surprised if the Queen sends someone along to get you your own quarters immediately, so we'll have to be quick."

She did as he said, removing the dress quickly and bundling it back up. Louis moved and grabbed her cap from outside, bringing it to her. There was only time for a quick tuck of her hair into the cap before they were leaving the room and striding back to the room.

Luckily, George was waiting for them, because she knew she never would have been able to find her way back to those rooms, especially while avoiding people's gazes.

If anything, the people were watching them more avidly. Kalysta could feel the intensity of their stares as George led them back to where they were staying. It was unnerving.

There was a time of silence when they reached their rooms as they realized they were going to ultimately be waiting for Harry to reach his verdict, everything hinging on his decision.

"You did well," Zayn commented lightly.

"I worried that I grew impertinent at some point," she confessed, "but I did my best to keep it a plea, not an argument."

"You succeeded." Louis was the one to offer his quiet accolades now.

"How long will Harry make us wait?"

"Any length of time." Zayn looked a bit worried at this. "He hasn't ever made us wait longer than a week, but it depends how long he spends consulting his god Ornan."

"A week?" she gasped. "That's much too long!"

"Odds are that we won't have to wait that long." Zayn's assurance fell short again.

A knock interrupted them, though, and Louis answered the door.

"Your Grace," he said, bowing. "What can I do for you?"

"I would enjoy the pleasure of all your company on my way to the chapel," the Queen answered, "you, Ambassador Zayn, and... the young boy."

"The Queen herself is here? What name am I going by?" Kalysta hissed in aside to Zayn.

"Er... Calvin," he answered spontaneously.

"Of course," Louis complied quickly. "We would gladly accompany you."

"Actually, Your Grace," Zayn interjected, going to the door as well, "Calvin and I will join you, but Louis has some details that need taking care of."

"Yes, the Ambassador is right," Louis affirmed without hesitation.

Kalysta stepped forward at Zayn's beckoning and the two of them joined Layla out in the hallway.

The Queen gestured behind her at her maids and guards, apparently directing to follow at a discreet distance, because when the three of them moved forward the retinue waited a bit before following a ways behind.

Zayn offered the Queen his arm to lean on as a gentleman would and she accepted, placing her hand under and grasping his elbow gently. Kalysta fell in on the other side of the Queen.

"Princess, I would like to offer you a different set of rooms for the duration of your stay here, however long that may be." Layla's murmur was low and she was clearly masking her "s" and "t" sounds so that her voice wouldn't be distinguishable to the party behind them.

"That is particularly kind of you, oh Queen, but I am afraid I must decline," Kalysta replied with equal care.

"You risk your reputation and with it any possible chance of peaceful treaty with Mullingar," was the Queen's quiet retort.

"If my presence here is discovered here at all, then I believe my virtue will be the last thing on people's minds," Kalysta refuted. "This is necessary, Your Majesty."

"And wearing men's clothing is as well, I suppose?"

"Z- The Ambassador doesn't keep one woman, let alone traveling with one, so dressing as one in his company while visiting the nations would be particularly suspicious." Kalysta caught herself before calling Zayn by name so familiarly. Zayn gave a cough of protest at her comment. "I am only doing what I think needs done."

"That is admirable," Lalya commented, "but in this case I think the risks outweigh the possible benefits."

Kalysta bit her lip and stayed silent rather than responding quickly in frustration as she wished to do. She'd get nowhere insulting a Queen, particularly the wife of her most important potential ally.

"Why do you grimace, Princess?" the Queen asked lightly. "If you have something to say then be out with it. Forget formality for the present. I would know your thoughts in this."

"Very well," Kalysta sighed, "I dearly hope you are not referencing that this venture has little likelihood of success. If that's the case, and you already know what His Majesty will say, then he isn't giving this decision the consideration that it deserves."

"I cannot say what he will decide, one way or another." Layla's voice was uneasy. "I can say what he has done in the past only and that is to reject any position that could be interpreted as helping those working for or in opposition to Murdoch. But who can be sure? Perhaps Ornan will illuminate a different path."

The Queen was leading them through more hallways before stopping in front of ornate, gorgeously designed and carved wooden doors.

"We are at Holmes' Chapel," she told them quietly. "Inside, Princess, you'll find Harry praying. He wished to speak with you outside of a formal atmosphere. In the house of Ornan everyone is equal."

"You won't be joining me?"

"No, I don't believe so," the Queen answered. "I will have the Ambassador here escort me to the kitchens where I will be determining dinner for tonight."

Kalysta was worried, wondering what could happen to her while she was separated from the only people she knew in the castle.

Her uneasiness was clear, for the Queen added, "Harry has neither bark nor bite, so you need not worry. You will be able to discuss things more deeply and he will more easily be able to consult Ornan directly. It will be alright."

Kalysta simply nodded, turning to look at the Ambassador. His eyes met hers and she took strength from them as he gave her a steady look of confidence.

"Just keep in mind what we taught you, Princess Kalysta," he said quietly.

"Thank you, Ambassador." Kalysta turned and pulled on the giant circular handle of one of the ornate doors. It opened with no sound but the whooshing of air moving out.

Zayn's POV

He couldn't place the irrational worry he felt at leaving the Princess behind. There was no danger, so what brought this fear on? As he continued down the passageway with the Queen he wondered how long this would take. He needed to get back to Kalysta as quickly as possible.

"How did she get you to do this?" the Queen whispered. "You've worked in the shadows to spite your father and his greed, making subtle moves that would have no chance of coming back to you. Why throw all of that away now?"

"She approached me after her father told her of the planned engagement to Niall," Zayn answered. "She is seeking another way to save her country without trapping herself to him." He took a deep breath. "My father grows impatient with these farcical negotiations. No one is in the dark in regard to what he is doing. He knows this, and grows more bold. Bold action on his part requires equal boldness on mine."

"This is an awful risk to take in order to entertain a Princess," she counseled, seeing something else in his helping Kalysta. "You could let Elysium fall and none of the other nations would care a wink, particularly in mind of what has come to light. Why do all of this to help a cosseted Princess?"

"I believe you are not doing the Princess justice." He was careful not to directly contradict her, but there was no way he would let her lump Kalysta in with the other flighty nobles. "She is well-trained and intelligent and has the drive to succeed in this, as it is her country that will take the fall if I fail to garner support in the time allowed by the engagement and marriage. It was her wish to perhaps gain more backing before finalizing the proposal. She'll do what needs to be done, but she won't do it without fighting for something better."

"You would possibly jeopardize your entire resistance on this?" The Queen shook her head.

"Bold action requires bold response," he repeated. "The Princess is not a liability. She is strong and capable, and she knows more than she lets on. She's right! Even if Murdoch doesn't gain much with Elysium, it's another nation, another people under a tyrant's rule. Why should I not do all in my power to prevent it?"

"Have caution, Ambassador," the Queen warned. "Nothing good can come of this."

"Of what? Do you discount our goal so quickly?"

"I do not refer to your mission or her goal." He could see the Queen shaking her head quickly out of the corner of his eye. "Whatever you two have going on cannot continue. Nothing good can come of it and you will simply endanger your the resistance further."

Zayn was floored and it took him a moment to gain his breath back. "I-I am sure I do not know what you mean, Your Grace. There is nothing improper in my behavior toward the Princess. I cannot imagine how you came to that conclusion."

"Maybe there is nothing now, but I see the way she looks at you, Zayn." Now the Queen's voice was pleading. "She looks at you like you are her savior, in this endeavor and other areas. And I know of you've dallied, but there is something growing inside of you too, however you may wish to deny it. If either of you allow it to come to fruition then it will destroy you both and tear down all you've worked to accomplish. Heed me in this: do not to throw away your mission on something so fleeting. Take her where she has asked and return her safely to her father. You will both be better for it."

Again, Zayn couldn't answer immediately. The Queen saw more than even he did, for he was not aware of whatever way Kalysta looked at him. The initial eagerness he felt at hearing such a thing was squelched in the fear of what that eagerness and his own feelings would mean.

"No one person is worth endangering this," he managed to say a moment later. "I won't do anything to harm my chances, especially not for a dally. I'm a little surprised that you'd suggest it."

"Do not act as if you are innocent in such regards," the Queen scoffed.

"I never claimed to be, but again I assure you that such will not happen here."

"Be sure. And establish that she is just as sure."


	39. Arranged Marriages

Kalysta's POV

Kalysta entered the chapel and was stunned by its elegance. She wondered when she'd ever get used to the grandeur in this country. As she walked down the center aisle between the long rows of benches, she noticed several people in the rows, most leaning forward with hands clasped and eyes closed. Others seemed to be looking up into space and still others' mouths were moving silently.

As she neared the front, she found the King sitting, a child beside him. The King was alert, eyes staring toward the raised platform at the front where candles burned innumerous on tables and pedestals. One table held only a book, large and ornate. From the stiff posture and head of curls on the boy beside the King, Kalysta deduced it was the prince, Lucas.

When she reached the row, she stepped down and seated herself quietly next to the King. He didn't look at her or speak, so there was a considerable time of silence.

"Lucas, son, I thank you for your company during prayer," he said eventually, "but I need you to find your mother and see if she needs your help with anything."

The child couldn't have been more than four years, but he simply nodded, bowed individually to both his father and to Kalysta, and left the row from the other side, curls moving a bit as he picked up his pace in excitement. A man joined the boy as he left, probably a minder.

"He's a precious child," Kalysta commented. "He reminds me of my brother."

"He's quite well-behaved, yes," Harry responded, "and loving."

They sat in silence for another moment.

"You've put me in a difficult position, Princess." Harry finally got to the point of their meeting here. His voice was weary and his shoulders reflected this, slumping down a bit.

"You were in this mire before I arrived," Kalysta said carefully. "I simply showed you the predicament and you are no longer able to ignore it."

"I was not ignoring the situation," he countered.

"Apathy has the same result as ignorance, then."

"You believe I do not care?"

"I believe you've done what you think best for your country," Kalysta allowed. "That doesn't mean that you should continue doing it with new information provided."

"What's the new information provided?" Harry's voice was careful now too. "Nothing you have said is new information. What more would I have to consider?"

Kalysta was silent as she felt the anger swell in her. This was exactly what Zayn and Louis had mentioned, times when she might feel insulted and would need to stay calm. She breathed deeply, trying to control her frustration and despair.

"I had hoped a face would make you realize that this is more than what you're making it." She could barely speak through gritted teeth. "And I hoped that having the facts presented again would help drive home that you're not safe like you think, that you can't just sit this out. Murdoch will come for Cheshire; you possess the luxury of time, not safety."

Harry seemed not only uncomfortable, but troubled. "What would you have me do?" he breathed, fervency clear in the catch in his voice. "Can you honestly say that, faced with my decision, you would take the chance of endangering your people for a nation that you are cordial with, at best? Can you say that?"

Kalysta didn't answer immediately, taking the time to consider it fully.

"I can't say, because I'm not completely faced with it," she confessed, "however, I'd like to think I would do the right thing."

"Yes, it seems you have a penchanct for that." He looked pained to admit it.

"I will do what needs to be done and if you do not help, I may very well face marriage to Prince Niall."

"I know only rumors of him," he confessed. "How well do you know him? Would marriage to him be that horrible? Not all arranged marriages are loveless and miserable. Growing into love can be as fulfilling as falling into it."

"It seems as if you speak from experience," Kalysta allowed.

"Yes, I do." His voice took a positive tone.

"How did you meet?"

"Her father was a rival noble who still owns the major lands producing wheat in Cheshire. In order to garner his support, my father promised his daughter could be my Queen."

"And is it a good marriage?"

"I have grown to love her... immensely."

"And she?"

"Has always loved me, she said. She saw from afar my struggle to follow in my father's footsteps, to make this nation rise in the eyes of the others and keep the people happy while staying true to myself. It's much more difficult than people imagine and she's largely responsible for helping. Even before I knew her, she saw the person behind my title, and eventually she brought me around." When she looked at him, his face grew reminiscent and fond.

His confession was surprisingly honest; Kalysta hadn't expected him to reveal that much.

Not surprising was the silence following the confession.

"I will leave you to your prayers," she said, standing slowly, "and I hope my being here will change your mind."

"Until later," he acknowledged.

"Happy prayers."

She exited down the center aisle, keeping her head lowered in a penitent fashion.

Louis stood waiting outside as she opened the door to leave.

"Ready to go back to the room?" he asked. "We need to keep low for a while, at least until Harry decides to share his verdict. George brought lunch and it's waiting in the rooms."

"That would be... welcomed," Kalysta sighed.

"Are you alright? Did he give any indication that was different from the audience chamber?"

"I-I don't believe he's going to help." She could barely manage the words as she walked next to him. It was only now that the full grasp of the failure hit her. Her breaths came quickly, but she managed to control her emotions. "He spoke of how difficult this all was and informed me that my pleas and presence did not accomplish much in altering his position."

"Give it time," Louis counseled, "that's all you can do." She simply nodded. "But I must say that, while he may not have been particularly swayed by your argument, it's not your fault," he continued. "You presented things well, and if he does not change his mind then he is more calculating and hard-hearted than I had imagined."

"Thank you," she whispered, taking some hope from his words.

They walked the rest of the way in companionable silence.

After lunch, Kalysta sat around the room trying not to think. Without anything else to occupy her mind, though, it was a difficult task. Initially, she set about exploring the rooms, looking at all the different finery, but that didn't take very long.

"How long must we stay here?" she finally asked Louis. "I understand wanting to stay out of people's minds as much as possible, but I believe I'm going to lose my mind if we're here much longer."

"We'll stay until the Captain says differently, I suppose," Louis answered, shrugging.

"He hasn't been back since I was at Holmes Chapel this morning."

"He has a lot to do. He'll be here eventually."

— — — — — —

It wasn't until that evening that Zayn returned.

"Harry requests our presence in the throne room," he said immediately upon entering. He seemed... off, not meeting her eyes.

"Right now?" she breathed. "That wasn't long to think about it."

"Oh, now you want him to take his time?" Louis laughed, trying to ease the tension in the situation, but it fell short.

"Did you actually see him?" Her voice was quiet as she directed the question at Zayn.

"Yes." Again, Zayn avoided looking at her.

"How did he seem?"

"I'll leave it to him to tell you what he's decided."

"That's hint enough," she whispered.

Zayn simply walked back out the door. She followed with Louis and they were joined by George on the way. He took the lead, as usual, showing them to the throne room.

— — — — — — — —

This time when they entered, she was still in her disguise. Again, it was just the King and Queen and their bodyguard in the room. Three confronting three.

After the formal bowing, they stood before the King and Kalysta tried to breathe properly.

"I have reached a conclusion." Harry's voice was strong, measured, slow. He was thinking about his words carefully, still, and it filled her with dread. "I have not come to this decision lightly. Ornan has been so far silent to me on the matter and so, with no new prompting from him, I must hold to the ideals that I rested upon when I first made this decision many months ago.

"Princess, I see your problem and it pains me to tell you that at this time I will not publicly show support for any resistance or country acting against Mullingar."


	40. Strength and Beauty

She had known it was coming, but the words were still like a physical blow. Her legs felt weak and she wobbled a moment before an arm under hers lent her stability. It was the Ambassador, and she drew strength from him.

She tried to speak, but words failed her for a moment.

"Princess, I would like to add that this decision was not made hastily or thoughtlessly," Layla said, her voice full of sorrow. She seemed to sympathize.

That didn't make Kalysta feel any better, though.

"Regardless of how much thought was placed into this, you've come to the wrong conclusion, Your Majesties." Gone was any sense of proper etiquette. They had given that up when they heard her plea and chose to sit back and watch her country fall. "Pray to your Ornan that he forgives you, because I and my people do not."

Full of righteous rage, she spun on her heel and left the room, swinging the door open wide and not caring who was about to see the wild fury that was gripping her. Footsteps indicated that Zayn and Louis were following, but she couldn't find it in herself to care.

"Gather our stuff, we're leaving," she said the minute they entered their rooms.

"Princess, it's just nightfall," Louis protested.

"I don't care. You mentioned how safe the King has made this land. Let's test that out. I want to be on the road to Wolvecaster and away from this city in an hour."

—- —- —- —- —-

She got her wish, whether they were afraid to confront her when she was in this mood or for some other reason. They met with Mahir at the inn and even he didn't have a word against it when he saw her face. Her rage was a quiet rage now, but all the more deadly for it.

She wanted to give Starling her heels as Zayn led the way out of the city, but she knew the horses would likely injure themselves running in the dark. There was no way to release the tension, though, and as it built she felt like she was going to explode.

How dare he? How dare that man sit in front of her and refuse any help?! Only the rich and powerful could watch someone desperate for help and deny them it. In a moment, she felt her blood might boil.

"That blasted fool!" she finally spouted. "He knows how important this is and he still withholds his support!"

"Careful, Princess!" Zayn snapped. "We're not out of Cheshire yet. Save your venom."

She slumped in her saddle, the fire going out of her and the despair finally welling up again. Her biggest hope was gone with the possibility of Harry's support. Gaining Wolvecaster and Velia would be difficult if not impossible now.

She mindlessly steered Starling after the other horses until finally, upon reaching a copse of trees, Zayn called, "We're stopping here for the evening, whether you like it or not, Princess. We need rest. It is two days journey on horseback from here to the Royal City of Jamison."

Kalysta climbed down from Starling's back, dropped the reins, and stepped away. "I'm going to relieve myself," she said, stepping further into the dark. She had always hated squatting in the woods, but now she welcomed the chance to get her wits about her.

When she was done, she didn't return immediately. She couldn't shake the fear that was eating at her now and she didn't want something the men said to set her off. It was possible she'd respond in anger or sadness and either response was not desirable.

The presence of firelight alerted her to the passing of time and she returned to where they were. Someone had taken Starling's equipment off, removing his bit and laying the saddle blanket out near the fire, obviously for her to lay on. She approached and kneeled next to the flames, holding her hands out. It was only as the warmth seeped into her that she realized how cold she was, her emotions putting her almost past physical sensation.

"Thank you for taking care of Starling," she addressed the three of them.

"My pleasure, Princess," Mahir replied.

She sat like that for a time, ignoring the men as they prepared the camp, pulling out blankets and some food.

"We're lucky I got some more travel rations," Mahir pointed out. "I wasn't expecting to leave that quickly."

"Neither were we," Zayn answered quietly, seeming to caution the other man into silence.

It wasn't until a cloth full of food was pressed into her hands that she realized how oblivious she truly was. Zayn had been the one to hand her the food, sitting beside her and taking bites of his own portion of bread. He didn't say anything. He didn't have to say anything.

Only the idea of making a fool of herself in front of all three of the men kept her tears in check. She ate sparingly of the food, unable to stomach much because of her inner turmoil.

Was there anything they could have done differently? Could she have maybe plead a bit more, swallowed her pride a bit further in order to persuade Harry of how much she needed his help?

"I know what you're doing," Zayn whispered to her, "and you need to stop. You did what you could. You can't change a King's mind in some things. Of all people, you should know that, with how much experience you have dealing with your father."

Kalysta simply nodded.

"I'll take the first watch," she volunteered. "Even if we're in safe country it's never a good idea to all sleep at once."

"As you wish," Zayn replied.

The men got their blankets together and curled up and Kalysta took the opportunity to step away a bit. She kept them in sight, but made advantage of the solitude to allow a few tears to escape.

Zayn's POV

Sleep eluded him and he was not happy about it. True, the day had been full of upheavals between official business and the avalanche of information that Layla had thrown on him. Even pondering now he couldn't bring to his mind any time that the Princess had given him any special look. In fact, more often than not she tended to give him scornful looks if any at all.

The light snores of the other men indicated their success in sleeping where he failed and the thought frustrated him even further. He was awake and thinking about looks from the Princess while they slumbered in peace.

A small cry made him sit up quickly. It was clear it had come from the Princess. He'd recognize her voice anywhere, but he wasn't sure as to the reason for it. He could see her in the shadows cast by the fire, alone and unbothered. However, her head was down, her body slumped. Another small cry sounded and he realized it was stifled tears.

His first instinct was to go to her. She tried to hide these things and he hated it. She was strong, yes, but he didn't want her to hold onto all this alone. The Queen's words stopped his initial response and he sat, torn on what to do.

The internal struggle raged. She wouldn't know he'd ignored her tears. He could lay back down and go to sleep. No one else would know she'd cried... but he would.

He got to his feet and left the fire to join her.

Kalysta's POV

"Why the tears, Princess?"

The Ambassador's voice startled her and she swiped at her tears, regardless of the fact that he wouldn't be able to see them.

"I simply need to be alone, Ambassador," she whispered. "Everything today is just a confirmation of my worst fears and I..." She couldn't finish.

"What, Princess, tell me."

She fought the desire to share everything with him. Her emotions were roaring in every direction and this caring side of him brought about the emotions she feared the most.

"I-I just don't know what to do." Her voice quavered in the most unflattering fashion. "Getting the other countries on our side was the last hope. I didn't want to marry Prince Niall before, and I certainly don't want to now. It was a last resort, one I thought might be necessary. But when this possibility occurred to me, I went after it. Somehow, I don't think King Liam and King Thomas are going to be any more forthcoming with offers of help in this. King Harry was one of our biggest possible assets, and we can't get him to help."

"Don't give up hope, now, Princess," Zayn pressed, moving closer to her. "You've come this far and persuaded me to take you. Louis even supports you, and I'll admit he's a difficult man to sway from his initial opinion."

"I don't believe I can handle this," she breathed, turning away from him and looking out into the darkness. "I don't have the knowledge, or the capabilities to convince full rulers that my cause is a worthy one to invest in. Mullingar is a more severe threat to Velia and Wolvecaster, so I don't know why I expected King Harry to consent to our way. Cheshire is well-established and fortified, with enough soldiers and limitless supplies as the biggest and wealthiest country in Dalitrise. What cause have they for joining us? They can defend themselves. What was I thinking? I must have been mad."

"Don't be so harsh with yourself," he insisted.

She felt his hand rest on her shoulder and she turned to look at him, standing so close in the moonlight. Her eyes had adjusted enough to see his mouth was bowed downward slightly with the seriousness of their conversation. But she could see the crow's feet by his eyes from days squinting at sea, and from laughter, his long lashes that rested on his cheeks as he blinked at her, and more importantly the look in his eyes that said he had complete faith. In what, she had no idea. Was it faith in her? Faith in their fate? Faith that good would win out? And what was good? Who would be the one to judge which side was right?

"We can't guarantee what tomorrow is going to bring, but I can tell you, giving up solves nothing," he pointed out. He was still staring at her, the deepness of his eyes pulling her in. "You're doing more than you realize. You made King Harry consider changing his position, which I can tell you is far more than I have ever accomplished. Give it time. It seems as if everything is crashing down on you, but it's not. There's still a bit available to us. You're strong enough for this; I've seen it. I've seen your strength when you stood up to me when we first met, when you faced the advisors and myself at that first council, when you arrested my pig cousin, when you spoke to King Harry as an equal and demanded that he see you as such. You have such strength and it's s-so beautiful..."

He trailed off and she could tell he hadn't meant to say the last part. His eyes darted away to avoid hers as she'd done just a moment before. This avoidance only confirmed what she'd grown more and more conscious of in their time aboard the Partheos.

"Zayn," she whispered. The word was comfortable on her tongue, though this was the first time she had uttered it without his title before.

He shifted his gaze back to hers. He too noticed the lack of formality. She saw it in his eyes again, that look that had only been hinted at before. More than anything, she wished to explore it.

She moved closer.

As if in agreement, he leaned in toward her until their faces were mere slim spaces apart, so close she could feel his breath on her face. And surely he could feel her breaths, rapid and uncontrolled as she fought against something inside of herself. What was it she fought? Was it the sense of duty that said this was all wrong? Was it the knowledge that he'd probably accomplished this with many women in the past? Was it the fear of repercussion?

Setting that all aside, she closed the expanse, pressing her lips to his quickly, in what was her first action of such a kind. His lips were soft, but soon she met the resistance of his teeth against her mouth and she gasped.

He wrenched away. She saw his chest rising and falling as he stared at her. Then he moved forward, taking her into his arms and leaning his head down to kiss her once more. The contact was strangely pleasant, but she felt so out of her element. He tilted his head further, causing her to do the same, and moved his mouth. The sensation was unfamiliar, and compelling, urging her to match the intensity. She opened her mouth slightly and attempted to complement his movements with her own.

Just as she thought she would collapse beneath the phenomenon, he broke away once more. He stared at her wide-eyed and then shuddered, shifting his gaze before releasing her. He stepped back and placed his palms against his face, rubbing his eyes.

Without a word, he turned and walked away, disappearing from her view as he moved farther out in the shadows of the night.

She stood stunned for a brief moment, then moved back to the fire. He could take over the watch. She had a heart to restart.

Zayn's POV

It was that look. He'd seen it before. It was the wide-eyed, virginal air of a maiden willing to give anything to a man all too eager to take it. He'd seen it many times, taken advantage of it many times, and he knew it was something he couldn't act on now. Gods, he'd been that close to giving in. But he couldn't; not with her. There was too much at stake, in his own heart, in hers, too much at stake for their nations.

He couldn't allow it to get that close again.


	41. Languid Lovers

Kalysta's POV

When Kalysta woke the next morning it was to Louis nudging her.

"Come on, we're getting an early start," he prompted.

She sat up and started packing the blankets and things in order to tie them to Starling. Mahir had saddled the horse for her again and they were quickly riding away after Louis doused the coals.

Kalysta didn't have a chance to talk to Zayn. He hadn't seemed to be avoiding her, but it was definite that he wasn't making any attempts to talk about what had happened the night before.

She didn't want to think about him possibly regretting it, but it occurred anyway. It was sure that she didn't regret it. She was simply stunned... still. What if he was angry? She hadn't pushed him or anything, but the abrupt way he'd pulled away and left her there made her think that not only had he not intended to kiss her, but that he had something in his mind worrying him on the subject.

They had set a fairly easy pace, so she urged Starling forward to join Zayn at the front of their procession.

"Ambassador," she greeted.

"Princess," he acknowledged carefully.

"Are we going to simply ignore what happened?" She kept her voice quiet. She was nervous, but she couldn't just let this go.

"We'll talk tonight," was his reply. It was said gently, but she detected a hint of unease in his voice.

"Are you angry?" She hated the quaver in the words that showed just how invested she was in his answer.

"Oh, Kalysta, of course not," he sighed. "I would never be angry at you for something like that. And before I say anything else, I'll remind you that now isn't the best time to discuss it. We're going to have to pick up the pace."

She nodded and slowed Starling enough to move back to where she'd been, positioned between Louis and Mahir. Louis gave her a quizzical look as she passed, but she simply raised her eyebrows as if confused that he was confused. He shook his head and looked forward again.

True to his word, Zayn heeled his horse into a gallop and they spent most of the day at that speed. They slowed to walk the horses and eat several times, but beside that there wasn't much time for talking. Kalysta welcomed the chance to be semi-alone with her own mind and to consider herself just what had happened to allow that kiss.

Something had developed between her and the Ambassador. She had noticed her own feelings previously, but had quelled them before she could them too deeply. Now, she knew she would have to think on the matter or risk endangering them both. What could they do? They were both trapped in a fate not of their choosing. True, Zayn had chosen to hazard his life by organizing the resistance, but she saw that as brave, a step to help right a wrong he hadn't committed. To do that meant keeping not only his cover, but hers as well. She supposed they could keep cover and still explore whatever this was. They deserved that much at least.

The stopped for one more evening.

"We're about a morning's ride away from the city, so we'll rest here," Zayn said.

It was like the night before. They got things organized and settled with a fire and a bit of food, but this time Zayn took the first watch. Kalysta crawled under her blanket at the same time that Mahir and Louis laid down. However, she didn't think she'd be able to tell when they fell asleep. Should she take a chance and get up anyway? Luckily, Zayn saved her the trouble.

She felt his hand on her shoulder as he shook her very gently.

"Come, Kalysta, let's talk," he whispered.

It took her a second, but she extricated herself from the blanket and followed him out a ways from the fire. When he stopped, she stood a few feet from him, both silent.

"That can't happen again," Zayn said finally.

"Why is that?"

"There are a lot of reasons and the most important being that we can't risk anyone figuring out who you are or that you've been traveling with us. That was the first and only time it's going to happen."

"So you're saying it was a mistake?" She barely kept the tremor from her voice. She couldn't let him know how much this affected her.

"Well, I shouldn't have allowed it, that's for sure." His voice was forlorn, countering his words.

She looked down at the ground, surprised at how much it hurt.

"Don't look like that," Zayn groaned. He ran a hand through his hair.

"What do you mean?"

He reached out and carefully pulled her into his arms. "When you look so desolate, all I want to do is comfort you," he answered.

"What's wrong with comforting someone?" she asked, reaching to wrap her arms around his middle.

"Because I want to comfort you with my lips," he whispered in her ear, making her shudder.

She tried reminding herself that this man had been her enemy a couple weeks ago. It was overwhelming. All her senses heightened and she was hyper-aware of his mouth near her ear. "What's wrong with that kind of comfort?" she breathed.

"I've already stated that. Isn't it obvious?" His voice was wary. "There can't be anyone other than the rulers knowing that you're traveling with me. If it gets out, there could be a question on your virtue and that can't happen. It would undermine the entire resistance and expose us."

"How will anyone find out, though? It's not as if they'll see something between us!" She felt like a complaining child, but it frustrated her that he was so willing to give up what she'd just allowed herself to acknowledge. "Everyone that matters will keep the secret and the others think I'm a boy anyway. Those who know of me would never suspect anything of the sort."

"Layla did," Zayn sighed, pulling away and putting his arms to his sides.

"I beg your pardon?"

"She mentioned that she knew there was... something between us and she warned me that we couldn't risk our operation for... whatever this is."

"Would you describe her as perceptive?" Kalysta asked quickly.

"I suppose."

"That was before either of us were willing to admit anything was going on," she pointed out. "It was before we had discussed anything of the sort and now that we're facing it I believe we can conceal our... whatever this is, more thoroughly."

Zayn strode a pace away and ran his hands through his hair in agitation. "You're missing the point!" he spouted, turning to look at her. "We can't take the risk! It takes one slip in front of the wrong person and our resistance is doomed. If Murdoch declares war on Elysium before we get the other nations organized and on our side, then your nation will be annihilated. And I assure you, he'll see the loss of your virtue, or the possibility of it, as a justifiable reason to declare war, particularly if the treaty and proposal are drafted and signed."

"You're thinking about this too much." She stepped forward quickly and raised her head to kiss him on the lips. It was a bolder moved than anything she'd ever done and she was surprised herself that she'd had the courage. She wasn't sure what to do with her hands, so she wrapped one arm around the back of his neck and gripped his shirt in the other, pulling him close enough that she felt his entire body pressed against hers. This newest form of contact made her gasp from an overload of sensory information.

Her gasp was all it took to get him as involved in the kiss as she. Then, she was drowning in the feel of him. It was his compelling movements that prompted her to respond in kind, but compared to the first kiss, this one was languid, thorough, anything but urgent. He was taking it slow, giving her time to account for the unfamiliarity of the experience. Holding her tightly against him, he reverenced her lips with his own and she thought she'd never be able to catch her breath.

Eventually, he caught himself and moved his head back, holding her against his chest once more.

"That changes nothing," he whispered. "It's still too dangerous."

"We can be careful," she objected. "Why should we have to give this up when we've been asked to give everything else already?"

"Because that's what we're called to do: sacrifice for the good of the people!" He was agitated once more. "And what purpose does this serve? What can be accomplished except pain?" He moved away again, clearly unable to be next to her while so conflicted.

"How could you possibly mean that?" she asked. "We give up everything and we can't have one joy?" Again, she surprised herself by going over and taking his face in a hand and forcing him to look at her. "I'm not asking for marriage, I'm not looking to make promises that neither of us can keep. I'm saying please do not shut me out when we've been denying our own wants and desires for so long. This is such a small thing compared to what we face. Why not find a bit of happiness where we are?"

His eyes were wide as he stared back at her and in them she imagined she could see his conflicting thoughts.

She waited for what seemed an eternity as he fought the differing sides of himself.

Finally, he gave a great exhalation and leaned forward to kiss her lips gently. "No expectations goes against everything you deserve, but you're right. We can't promise anything. We can allow ourselves a small pleasure, though. Are you sure you can accept this?" He voiced his question softly, clearly worried for her feelings.

"I may be a woman, but I know that reality does not give us the luxury of love." He gave an almost imperceptible flinch at that word, and she would have teased him if she weren't so scared of the thought of rejection.

"We won't be discussing that, then," he said hurriedly. He stayed where he was, however, still trying to come to grips with whatever thoughts troubled him about this and looking at the ground awkwardly.

Eventually, he raised his eyes to meet hers and a small smile lit up his face. His eyes took her in for a moment and then he reached up to pull the cap from her head and allow her hair to spill out.

"I hate this thing," he breathed, tossing it to the ground. His hand moved to bury in her hair and she was a little scared of his abandon now that he'd resolved the conflict in his mind. But he was careful in his movements, taking her arm and lifting it to wrap around his neck again as he leaned in.

This next kiss was as slow and careful as the last one. He had to know how inexperienced she was, so perhaps he was letting her adjust to the newness of it all. Or he could have simply been holding himself back. Regardless, she was grateful for it. She still hadn't grown accustomed to the feel of his lips, the difference between their silky texture and the rasp of the scruff surrounding them. Would she ever get used to it? She hoped not.

She mimicked him, placing her hand on his cheek and tilting her head so she could drag herself closer to him.

The next second, Zayn used his grasp in her hair to turn her head to the side where he placed light kisses to her cheek and more forceful ones down the line of her jaw. She was enraptured, so unused to the way his attention made her heart race and her breath catch. It took all of her to remember to inhale and exhale properly. She wrapped her arms tightly around him, trying to get as close as possible. His mouth moving to her neck made her suck in her breath much too loudly.

"Shh," he cautioned, his voice low. "I thought you said you were going to be careful. What am I going to do with you?" He was teasing her and she couldn't bear it, because his breath and those words whispered against her neck made the hair on her body rise. She grasped his face and pulled him back to kiss her lips again, because if he continued what he was doing she was going to faint.

They stayed locked for a moment before he moved back.

"You need to get some rest," he whispered, pecking her quickly on the lips before turning her toward the fire. "You stand before King Liam tomorrow. Remember, caution is of the utmost importance. Sleep well, Kalysta." One more kiss was placed to the side of her neck and when he realized she was not only speechless but immobile, he pushed her gently forward.

Somehow she stumbled to her blanket and curled up, trying and failing to forget the sensation of his mouth on her neck.


	42. Wolvecaster

Kalysta woke the next morning without prompting. It was like a bell had gone off, waking her before she needed. When she looked around, she noticed that the other three were already up, readying to depart.

"There's some food by the fire for you," Zayn said, as he threw the saddle up onto his horse.

At his mention she looked and saw dried beef, a bit of cheese and some bread, which she was more than ready to eat.

Zayn acted as unconcerned as she did, but in a flash Kalysta remembered that her hair was down. She moved about frantically, looking for the hat, before finding it among her sheets. However, she knew she'd left it outside the light of the fire during her excursion.

Zayn coughed quietly and when she looked at him he simply winked and went back to packing. So, he'd put her hat back with her, realizing she had forgotten it and foreseeing an issue would arise. What a smart fellow.

They were on the road in the same order as last time. When their riding brought them to a pathway, Zayn turned his horse, leading them down the dirt roadway. This was the first time they'd used a public travel-way and it was then that Kalysta realized they would be arriving in the middle of the day, not at night as they had before in Cheshire. There would be more eyes on her and more people scrutinizing her identity.

That was not the only thing to ponder, however. The closer they got to the city, the more dejected Louis seemed. His shoulders drooped and after a while his head bowed as if in shame. Then, like he'd realized his actions, he sat up straight in his saddle and steeled himself, shaking his head almost imperceptibly.

Kalysta nudged Starling forward to walk next to him.

"Are you alright?" she asked.

"I'm just tired."

She wasn't sure why she trusted this man with her identity when he was clearly so poor at deceiving people.

"Your discomfort doesn't have anything to do with the secret you're hiding does it?" she prodded. "There's something about Wolvecaster that ties you in knots. I noticed it before and it's clearly affecting you now."

Visibly he didn't respond in any way, but his voice was resigned when he said, "All in due time."

"What's that supposed to mean?"

"Contrary to what you believe, you don't need to know everything," he returned a bit harshly. "Everyone has secrets and I'd like to keep mine for a bit longer, if you can agree to it."

He'd rendered her speechless, so she moved Starling back into her designated spot.

At first there wasn't much movement on the road, but this quickly changed once the city came into sight. Other roads joined theirs and the press of people grew. The average person wasn't dressed quite as well as those in Cheshire, but most seemed to have enough to eat regularly and to be in good health.

The city came into view finally as they went over a small hill. Cheshire's walls were opulent in comparison, but these were clearly well-maintained and functional. Their group approached and caused less of a stir than Kalysta imagined they would. If anyone gave them a second glance it was to show puzzlement, but none stared for long. She figured they did make a strange group, with Zayn and Mahir's coloring, Louis' apparent difference, and then her own drastically opposite skin tone.

While there were a couple of guards at the gates, they weren't stopping anyone, simply watching the figures entering and exiting the city. Zayn led their group right past, and they were in the Royal City.

In terms of people and milieu, the place wasn't too different from her own Royal City of Haven. People moved about their business and there was a general air of productivity. It was a friendly atmosphere with children playing and mothers calling. Kalysta had to pay close attention lest Starling step on one of the children that darted in and among the carts and horses.

They grew close enough to the palace, which was austere in fashion. Moving closer, she could see guards outside, patrolling the dark gray stonework. The road led straight through the city to the palace gate where they were stopped by those guards.

"Ambassador," one greeted, clearly familiar with Zayn. "Who is your new companion?"

"A Mullingan cousin of mine, Calvin," Zayn answered, "who wished to train under my tutelage." Unlike in Cheshire, his voice remained its pleasant timbre instead of becoming that of a Mullingan's.

"Very well," the guard said, "I'll bring you to the King."

"Captain, would you like me to remain out here?" Mahir asked quickly. "I can catch up on the local gossip and report back to you."

"Yes, thank you, Mahir." Zayn turned and followed the guard leading the way into the palace.

\--- --- --- --- --- --- --- --- ---

The guards didn't question their presence. They simply led the group to the throne room, Zayn in the lead, Louis next, and Kalysta behind him.

"Presenting Ambassador Zayn of Mullingar and advisors," the announcer called, "to His Grace King Liam the Just, Ruler of Wolvecaster."

King Liam sat alone. He was unmarried so he didn't have a Queen to keep him company on the pedestal, and there were only a few nobles milling about.

Their party moved forward and stopped, each group measuring the other. The king sat straight-backed on his throne, hands on the armrest and lean-muscled body barely disguising the tension. Obviously, he was not happy to see them.

Their appraisals halted as a child of about eight years stepped from behind the throne. Her eyes lit up and she clutched her hands together.

"Uncle, may I greet them?" she asked, bowing to King Liam.

"Of course, child." His voice was deep and measured.

The girl gave a squeal and ran toward them, startling Kalysta with her excitement. Even more strange was that the girl ran straight to Louis, taking a flying leap into his arms. He caught her, and held her close for a moment.

"Pa-pa!" she cried, kissing his cheek and putting her palms on either side of his face. "Your face is so dark! Did your trip go well? Where did you go? Did you see a sea-monster this time?"

Louis laughed loudly, hugging her close again.

"I've missed you too, love!" His grin split his face, eyes crinkling with a joy she had never seen from him, and she got a view of another side of him, a happy, carefree father who encouraged such emotion and love in his child. "What are you doing in the throne room? Isn't this petition-time?"

"Uncle Liam says it's time I learned how a ruler should behave, especially since Everett has no interest."

"And where is Everett?"

"He never wants to listen to Uncle Liam work. And when we heard you'd arrived, he said he would rather ride his horses than see you," she replied, her pinched face obviously showing how she felt about that sentiment. "He seemed angry, but he's just being silly." She placed another kiss on Louis' cheek and smiled, hugging his neck tighter.

Kalysta was absolutely stunned. Louis was the Louis? She couldn't comprehend it.

Louis, the man she'd been traveling with, was the older brother of King Liam and the rightful heir to the throne of Wolvecaster.


	43. Do Better

Louis was older than Liam, and had been the next in line for the throne. After the death of their father, he had mysteriously disappeared and Liam had become king. Some thought Liam had died. No one in the other countries understood what had happened, but this was apparently old news to those of Wolvecaster. It was a well-kept secret, particularly for something that didn't seem to be much of a secret.

She continued to struggle with the concept, until the girl (Louis' daughter?) wiggled down from his grasp.

She walked over to Zayn and smiled up at him.

"Hello, Ambassador," she said. "Thank you for bringing Father back to visit early."

"You're welcome, Elise," he replied softly.

"Everyone out," the King commanded to the rest of the room at large. "I would speak to my brother in private."

There was a shuffling as the nobles did as he said, leaving the room and throwing confused glances at the three interlopers.

The girl, Elise, turned to Kalysta when they left, her eyes widening. Then, her brow furrowed and she stared.

"You're a girl!" she accused. "Why are you dressed as a boy?"

"Aren't you smart?" Kalysta pointed out gently. Her heart stuttered at the idea that someone saw through the disguise so easily. She kneeled so as to be at eye-level with Elise. "I'm testing to see how many people actually notice," she joked. "You're the first."

The girl smiled, proud of herself.

"My name is Princess Elise," she announced formally. "Who are you?"

"You can call me Lyra," Kalysta answered.

Zayn coughed derisively, which Elise noticed, for she turned to give him a searching stare.

"It is my pleasure to meet you, Lyra," she said next, choosing to ignore the interruption.

"Elise, it is time for me to talk with your Father and the Ambassador," Liam cut in.

The girl's face fell, but she nodded and said, "I will go study." She walked over and hugged Louis one more time. "How long are you here, Pa-pa?"

"Only a couple of days," he murmured sadly.

"But I will see you later?"

"Yes."

She released him and curtsied to the room at large.

"I will return later," she announced.

"Yes, thank you, Elise," the King said.

The child Princess exited with all the decorum of an older woman.

The silence was ominous, full of unspoken emotion.

"So you have returned, brother, and you come with this woman who I doubt greatly is as unimportant as she makes herself to be," the King commented. "Why have you come back, and in such strange company? And, Ambassador, what is your role in this?"

Zayn and Louis exchanged looks before Zayn nodded.

"It's time, brother," Louis said, stepping past the Ambassador and thereby accepting and asserting his own authority. "It is time to acknowledge that this problem with Murdoch isn't going to right itself, isn't going to be fixed by ignoring it. We must move before Wolvecaster is consumed. No longer can we sit idly by while nations fall, not when our aide is so desperately needed."

Louis' words infuriated the King. Unlike in Cheshire, Liam didn't have any societal dictations keeping him from showing it either. He was furious and barely containing it.

"How dare you come back and speak such things to me, brother," Liam snapped. "You leave me here to take your place, to assume the duty you abandoned, and then tell me I've ruled incorrectly? I have a response and that is, go back to sea and stop pretending you care for anything other than yourself. I won't deny you visiting the twins, but this audience is over. Go, take the Ambassador and your little chit there, and don't come before me again."

No! Kalysta rushed forward, kneeling slightly ahead of Louis.

"Please, oh King, I beg you," she called out. "I am no chit, but a fellow Royal. My name is Kalysta, and I am the Princess of Elysium."

The King was startled, to say the least. "No noblewoman would be seen in a man's clothing," he countered harshly.

Was that all anyone would ever comment on? She was starting to realize how ridiculous it was to judge someone's aptitude or standing based on their attire.

"You of all people know the lengths one must go to in order to properly serve their people," she breathed.

"Why are you here then, and poorly disguised as a man?"

Kalysta took a moment, trying to gather her thoughts; this meeting was nothing like she'd envisioned it.

"However you feel toward your brother, I beg that you do not make a rash choice when so many lives are at stake." There was no more pride for her. Harry wouldn't support her, but maybe Liam would. "I know that you've done your best. I know that it is difficult to protect a nation that is not strong in military, does not have the lands and products to essentially purchase autonomy. I know it better than most. I can see you had to take the throne unexpectedly and under difficult circumstances. But Murdoch has stated his intention to move against Elysium, perhaps not in so many words. I have to move, because he won't stop. My father attempts diplomatic solutions, which, while admirable, would have me married to Prince Niall, proving to do nothing but give Murdoch another peaceful takeover. Then he'll be after you next and what can stop him?

"We have to stand together. Do not push me away, I plead. You've sat out of the political fray, but our parents did the same when Murdoch took Bradford and you see how well that's turned out. We have a choice, and the opportunity, to do better than our parents."

She lowered her head, showing obeisance, and hoping that it was enough. Once more, she was at the mercy of a king.


	44. Appropriate Titles

What was it about kings that they insisted on being silent to increase suspense? King Liam was practicing the same tactic Harry had, staying quiet after she had finished, and thus giving her ample time to fret over the meaning of it.

"Have you spoken to the other rulers, Princess?" the King asked, surprising her with a direct address again. It was not as common in Wolvecaster for a woman to be given equal status. Then his words sank in.

"We've spoken with King Harry," she answered, her hopes sinking lower than they were.

"And what did he have to say?"

"He expressed that he is unwilling to openly support any resistance against Murdoch at this time." She sighed, feeling doomed before he ever responded.

"Why would I expose my brother and myself then, if arguably the most financially powerful nation refuses? That would display a marked lack of self-preservation." His tone was almost condescending and she responded in kind.

"Because it's the right thing to do!" she snapped, meeting his gaze unashamedly and giving him the full weight of her ire and desperation. "Live up to your title! How can you call yourself 'The Just' when you allow a power-hungry animal to swallow up smaller nations in a span of years and make no move to stop it?"

"Nations rise and fall, Princess," he taunted, clearly feeding off her anger. "It's the way of things."

"And this way of things will see your nation reduced to rubble and your people wiped out. I suggest you change your name, oh Just One." Everything about her sneered when she said it. "Perhaps Liam the Pathetic Observer would be a title better suited to your inactivity." She was still kneeling, but considered standing as her entire obeisant manner was ruined with her words.

To say King Liam was surprised was an understatement. At first, she thought she'd truly pushed him over the edge. His lips tightened and his eyes narrowed and he considered her for another moment that felt as if it stretched for an eternity.

Then, he burst into laughter, a genuine eye-crinkling smile splitting his face and making him look as young as she. It was so opposite of what she expected that her jaw actually dropped and she stared at him. Instead of sitting ramrod straight on his throne, as he had been, he leaned back a bit and laughed harder.

"Oh, Princess, now I understand how you bullied these two into bringing you here," he joked. "I don't believe anyone has ever spoken to me that way before, especially not a woman. You are intriguing to say the least."

Kalysta was flummoxed, but still disgruntled. "I'm glad my insubordination brings you joy, oh King." Her tone was still ironic and frustrated. Even Louis and Zayn gave her mortified looks, as if they couldn't believe what she'd said, let alone Liam's reaction to it. "If I'd have known that was what it took to gain your ear I would have called you pathetic sooner."

"Now, that's not quite what I meant," Liam protested, sitting back up. "It was refreshing, but I won't have you doing that all the time." He looked back at Louis and scowled, but it lacked the intensity that it did earlier. "I dearly hope you didn't plan on having her say such things to me. You've caught me in a good mood, otherwise you'd all be out on your tails."

"We understand that, Your Grace," Zayn chimed in, stepping forward. "She hasn't been trained fully in the dealings with other monarchs. You'll have to excuse her ineptitude."

She scoffed, but not quietly enough, because Zayn gave her a withering look.

"Imagine for a minute that I did offer my support," Liam said. "It wouldn't serve you much at all if we do not get King Harry backing us."

"I've considered that," Kalysta allowed, reasserting herself in the discussion. "If you and King Thomas are supporting the resistance then Harry may be more likely to join. Assuming you agree to stand with us, and King Thomas does as well, I would need to return home. I'm sure things have gone downhill in my absence as my father tries to put out the political fires in his own non-confrontational way. I am prepared to muck up the negotiations for the marriage and if necessary, insist upon dealing with Prince Niall directly. With that in mind, it could be arranged for the Ambassador here to journey back to Cheshire and persuade Harry with the full weight of Wolvecaster and Velia to our advantage, all while the Prince is tied up in treaty discussions with me and my father."

"I know Thomas a bit, but I really can't say what he'll do," Liam offered, seeming thoughtful. "A lot is hinging on his decision. And mine of course," he added, as if he still wasn't decided. This man before her was such a change from the one she'd encountered initially. His body had relaxed and he gestured more with his hands, leaving behind the stiff, stoic man he'd been.

"Is there a possibility you'll make a decision that I won't like?" Kalysta asked pointedly.

"I won't promise anything at this time." Now he was just being evasive. "I have to have time to consider all the options, if you'll allow that." There was the same irony in his voice that was so evident in Louis' most of the time.

"Don't let it be said that I was ever inconsiderate," she sighed. "I'll leave you to deliberate."

It was painful trying to stand after kneeling for so long. Zayn offered a hand that she accepted, standing with as much grace as possible before releasing it. And there was no way she could tell herself his touch didn't affect her. She still felt the warmth from him in her hand, but did her best to pretend that nothing out of the ordinary was going on.

She turned toward the door, wanting to find somewhere to sleep. She was exhausted and it was only midday.

"Brother, I'd like you to stay," she heard Liam comment as she was leaving. "There are some things I need to discuss with you."

Kalysta walked from the throne room and then realized she had no clue where she was going or what she could do. Zayn exited just a moment later, for which she was thankful. The hallway wasn't deserted as it had been outside the throne room in Cheshire. People moved about freely, giving them strange looks or ignoring them entirely. A positive side of this was that they could blend in partially with all the movement.

Zayn stepped forward, gesturing for her to follow.

"I have the same quarters every time I stay here," he mentioned, leading the way down a separate corridor that was as active as the last. "We can make our own way and since you'll be my supposed cousin you will be staying in my rooms with me."

It occurred to Kalysta to be thankful Delia couldn't see her now, staying with a man in his rooms all the time. Especially when the man's lips were as entrancing as this one's. She blushed at the thought, but schooled her expression into one of detached professionalism as she trailed after Zayn.

Up a set of wide stairs and they were walking down another corridor until he finally opened a door and gestured for her to enter first. She did and he closed the door behind them.

"Gods," she gasped, unable to contain the excitement she felt at the prospect of gaining an ally. She turned and stared at Zayn, overcome with everything. "He's considering it," she breathed.

He put a hand up and wiped his brow, failing to answer immediately.

"What possessed you to speak to him like that?" he groaned, moving to the desk on the back wall and sitting in the accompanying chair.

"Pardon?" Kalysta asked, surprised by the reprimand in his voice.

"You could have turned away our closest potential ally with your hasty anger," he said, looking up at her. When she stared at him in wordless astonishment he quickly continued. "I don't meant that as an accusation, Kalysta," he assured her, "but as a caution. You can't speak that way to King Thomas. It won't go over nearly as well."

Her first urge was toward the anger he so appropriately deemed "hasty", but she quelled it, doing her best to analyze the situation from his point of view.

"Kalysta, you have to take care," he breathed, seeming to beg her as he stood and walked over. "I know your earnest desire to help your people." His soft voice melted her and when he wrapped his arms around her she succumbed to it, because apparently she had no resistance where he was concerned. This fact alarmed her in a remote way.

"What am I going to do with you?" he sighed, his exhalation tickling the hair that had escaped her cap. She supposed the thing was pointless now that they were out of sight.

As if reading her thoughts, he pulled it off her head and ran his fingers through her hair gently, frowning when they caught in a tangle.

"You'll need a washing," he pointed out, his voice full of laughter.

She pulled away, crossing her arms and giving him a look full of censure.

"Excuse me if looking after that wasn't listing high in my priorities while on a ship and scurrying between countries," she protested.

"I'm surprised Liam believed you a woman with all that dirt on your face," he continued, clearly joking.

She took his tone into consideration.

"Now, that's the second time someone has insulted my appearance because of this endeavor," she observed. "Do you think I look too much like a man?" She pulled her long hair over her shoulder and gave him the best femininely affronted look she could manage, pursing her lips into a pout, pushing her chest forward and sidling up, just barely brushing against him.

"Well, certainly not now," he murmured, his intense stare conflicting with his calm voice.


	45. Too Much, Too Real

Abruptly he turned, going to the washstand. He grabbed a rag and moistened it with water from the pitcher.

"There's no mirror in here," he mentioned, "so if you would like your face washed a bit, I'd be happy to oblige."

It seemed a poorly formed excuse to touch her, but she was so surprised by the offer that she simply nodded.

He stepped to her again. "Close your eyes."

She did and felt the rag brush gently across her right eye, from the inner corner out, then the same on the left, reaching out to her cheeks. Next, he wiped across her forehead, down her temples to her chin and finally across her lips.

"There. Since those aren't dirty anymore," he whispered. She opened her eyes just as he leaned in to kiss her.

It was less overwhelming this time as he pulled her in closer against him, less overwhelming and more... enjoyable.

"What about yours?" she asked, pulling away from the kiss and keeping her arms around his neck. "Do you expect me to be kissing your dirty lips?"

He scoffed, but gave her the rag.

"Close your eyes," she mimicked. When he did, she repeated the same motions he had, washing away the road dust, paying extra time to his facial hair which had collected it in particular.

"You should shave," she joked. "Then you wouldn't be so dirty-looking."

"Hardly!" he protested. "I've been told it makes me look handsome and mysterious."

"It's good for a sailor maybe," she allowed, "but not an ambassador."

He didn't answer and she trailed the rag from his face to the side of his neck, washing to where his tattoos started on his chest.

"Is this alright?" she asked, almost ashamed of her timid voice.

He laughed and boasted, "I can control myself, don't worry."

"May I see your tattoos then?" She had been curious about them since she'd first seen them.

"I suppose," he breathed, clearly more affected than he'd let on. "You haven't really seen tattoos before, have you?" He reached up and undid the ties down the front of his shirt and slid the material from his shoulders before laying it carefully on the bed.

She never answered. She simply allowed herself the opportunity for something she'd wanted to do for a while: gaze at him without distraction or worry.

"Sit down." It was an order, but her voice lacked force and it came out as more of a request. Regardless, he did, sitting on the edge of the bed. He leaned back a bit and she was able to see the black against his skin more clearly.

They were everywhere, winding down his chest and curling over his hips. Whoever had done the tattoos was skilled. The lines followed the natural flow of his body, accentuating muscles in some areas and creating depth in others. There were lines but also pictures of things she didn't understand. She sat on the bed next to him in order to get a closer look at some of the pictures on his arm. There were various sea creatures portrayed that she could identify by sight if not by name, some flowing script, and then designs like rope that formed intricate knots on his shoulder.

She didn't even think before reaching out to trace a free spot on his abdomen, where his own muscles caused a slight shadowing. Her inexperience was evident, but her curiosity overcame her trepidation. As she continued to look, the hair starting just above his navel also drew her eyes, and she trailed her fingers down to brush against it.

The muscles of his stomach clenched and his hips twitched briefly. "What are you doing?" His breath was heavy after the sentence. "Those aren't tattoos, love."

She did it again, running her fingertips down the line the hair made toward the waistline of his trousers, and his muscles twitched involuntarily again before he grabbed her hand.

"Don't tease me," he warned. "I'm not usually patient under these circumstances."

"I'm sure I don't know what you mean."

"You know perfectly well." His voice was wry. "You may have never touched a man, but you don't need experience to know how to taunt a man. You know what you can do. Take care."

She nodded and he released her hand, so she went back to her tactile perusal, moving to a safer zone on his chest. However, she kept his responses in mind. Now, she focused less on his tattoos and more on the physical lines of his chest. There was a divot created by the separate chest muscles that she wanted to explore further. And he seemed willing to let her, laying there with hooded eyes and barely contained lust. He simply watched her as she trailed her fingernail in the divot and along the lower line of his pectoral.

"What is this here?" she asked, brushing a white scar on his side that had almost escaped her notice. The scar looked like it was from a blade.

"A knife fight when I was sixteen." He said it almost nonchalantly, but his voice still held a bit of tension, from the subject they were discussing or her wandering hands, she wasn't sure.

"What led to it?"

"A man was telling me that I'd missed a spot in the bath, that I hadn't cleaned my skin well enough, that I was still dirty," he answered. "It's something commonly referenced by Mullingans when they talk about Bradians. They call us muck-skins. The Mullingan nobility uses it more often than the rest of the nation."

He seemed troubled by this train of thought, so she tried her best to distract him once more, splaying one hand across his stomach and reaching another up past his chest, brushing a thumb over his nipple. She succeeded, based on his quick inhalation.

"Kalysta," he warned again.

She put on her most innocent smile. "Is there a problem?"

"Take. Care," he breathed. "I can control myself, but now you're being purposefully cruel."

Her response was to grin and nod before saying, "You bragged on your control, so it's a valid concept to test that." She had to admit that it made her happy to know he could be affected. She had thought her lack of experience would affect this exponentially, but there was something about the power she felt in this moment that left her feelings of inadequacy behind.

She pressed a hand to his chest and pushed him down until he was lying on the bed, his lower legs dangling off the end. It was something completely new to her, and she wasn't sure how much they could let happen. The idea that anything could happen scared her and thrilled her all the same.

His eyes narrowed in suspicion as she leaned forward and a hiss escaped his lips when she placed her lips to his chest. He didn't stop her, however, and she was starting to wonder if he ever would. Instead, he took the blanket in a punishing grip with his fists and closed his eyes. It would have seemed he was asleep except for the fact that all the muscles in his body were rigid and his jaw was clenched.

Now, she took the opportunity to scrutinize his torso fully with her lips. She paid close attention to which spots produced the biggest reactions, such as where his collarbones met, or the gentle slope of his chest meeting his side. When she spread her hands over him again and continued with her lips, he groaned.

"Cruel," was his complaint, but his eyes were still closed and he still made no move to stop her.

She laughed and slowly moved her upper body over his, one hand planted on the other side of his body so she had a more steady position. This teasing was more fun than she could have imagined.

His eyes flew open when her hip rested against his, and he pressed her away from him gently as he sat up.

"That's where it stops," he groaned, rubbing his eyes.

"I-what's wrong?" she asked. Surely that wasn't the end of his ability to cope. "It's not as if either of us is unclothed or doing anything untoward."

"It's too real when you're poised over me like that," he sighed. "I wouldn't be able to help myself."

She was afraid to even ask, and she didn't need to because he continued.

"You're a lovely woman, Kalysta," he breathed, "and I want you. Very much and that is no secret. Since that can't happen, I'll tell you what my breaking point is: you over me on a bed. That's too much."

She didn't reply, but when he turned to look at her he must have read something on her face because he said, "I shouldn't have to explain why my losing control would be dangerous. If you think you have problems now, try adding an illegitimate child to the mix. Because that's what would happen." His voice grew deeper, somehow. "If I lose control then we are going to be there, me inside you, taking what is not mine."

A warm flush spread from her chest up to her face and she wished it were from embarrassment. Somehow, this subject didn't make her feel embarrassed at all. Instead, she felt empowered, strong. He was vulnerable before her for once. Could she deal with his vulnerability as well as he dealt with hers?

She stood up, moving away.

"I apologize," she sighed, attempting to be gracious. "I understand the enormity of what this situation could bring about and I'm sorry for making things worse I just-" She cut off, unable to continue. She didn't know what to say because after that brief sense of empowerment she simply felt swamped by her own ineptitude. She didn't know how to deal with all of this.

A shuffle on the bed told her that Zayn was moving and it was confirmed later when stepped behind her and wrapped his arms around her front.

"Kalysta stop," he murmured. "I want you aware of the situation, but I'll let you know if there's something that's too much. Trust me. I have a lot to lose as well, however it may seem."

She felt his hand reach up and pull her hair over to the side and then his lips were pressed to the side of her neck. Immediately, she relaxed into his grasp. It reminded her of the time when Louis had been trying to calm down Beatrice and had done close to the same thing. Kalysta felt badly now that she'd judged the woman so harshly. Before all this with Zayn, she couldn't comprehend how anyone could succumb that easily to a man, but so much had changed in just a few short days.

He continued, kissing her neck and down to where her shoulder was exposed by the ill-fitting shirt she wore. His touch this way made her realize that she had no control compared to him. Already she was wishing he hadn't stopped her and that thought scared her, exhilarated her.

At that thought, the door burst open to allow Louis to come through saying, "That was the most excruciating meeting and I-" He stopped at the sight of them.

"What the actual bloody hell is going on?" he breathed.


	46. It Is What It Is

"You of all people should know exactly what is going on!" Kalysta said harshly, frustrated at the interruption. Zayn moved away slowly, deliberately, and grabbed his shirt to put it back on.

"Don't get smart with me!" Louis snapped, striding further into the room and slamming the door behind him. "I saw the way you two have been trading looks, but I never considered that you'd act on your feelings! And why would you? Both of you know the risks! So I'll ask again, what the actual bloody hell?" His voice was urgent and more insistent than she'd ever heard it before.

"Louis, give me a chance to explain," Zayn pressed, motioning toward the door. "Let's discuss this somewhere else."

Louis ignored him. "I already know what you have to gain from this, Zayn, but what's her angle?" It was the first time she'd ever heard him address Zayn as anything other than "Captain" or "Ambassador".

"I beg your pardon?" she sputtered. "What's my angle? You're insinuating that he's just in this for a shag and that I have ulterior motives? That I simply seduced him with my feminine wiles in order to ruin this mission? Don't forget that there's more at stake for me here than for either of you!"

"Well, you did sedu-" Zayn began, but she cut him off.

"I did not! Just hush!" she snapped, not in the mood for it. "Let's not just gloss over your little secret, Louis, rightful heir to the throne of Wolvecaster! You have more explaining to do than I ever will."

"It didn't concern you until now!" His voice was just as vehement. "We weren't sure how my brother would accept me so there was no reason to tell you while that was in question!"

"Regardless, this is something you should have told me! Is there anything else you're hiding that I should know about? You have a lot to answer for so you may as well start before a war does."

Louis sighed, scrubbing his eyes.

"Fine!" he relented, pulling the chair away from the desk in the room to sit at it. "I'll explain myself and then you two will!"

Kalysta didn't promise anything. She simply waited.

He took a moment to gather his thoughts.

"I wasn't a fit ruler," he confessed. "But I suppose it-it starts with my parents," he began haltingly. "They had wanted children for some time, but it had never worked out. As they grew older, they didn't think it was going to be possible and they worried. No child means rivalry amongst the nobility over which family will get the throne next. By some miracle, I was born and my parents couldn't have been happier. I was spoiled." His face grew fond as he recalled the memories. "They raised me as the heir, but they also raised me with love.

"My mom was fifty years old when they found out she was pregnant again and, while they were overjoyed at the thought of another child, they were terrified at the possibility of what could happen to the child and my mother." At this, his voice shook. "They were right to worry. My mother never properly recovered and Liam was born without the ability to walk."

Kalysta gasped. "I thought that was just a rumor!"

Louis grimaced. "My parents tried their hardest to quash the rumors. It didn't matter to us that he couldn't walk, but we knew that people would treat him differently. Being unable to walk didn't stop him from excelling. From the start, he was kinder, more intelligent, and adept in the political maneuvering. He does well now, and has some function of his legs, but he'll never walk fully."

"I know the rest," she cut in, shaking her head in disappointment. "You abandoned the throne and left it to him. Honestly, I knew you hated responsibility, but abandoning a country and your children?"


	47. While It Lasted

"Excuse me?" Louis hissed.

"What?" Kalysta couldn't believe how this had turned out. "I have no respect for someone who so blatantly gives up on everything important!"

"That's enough, Princess!" Zayn interjected harshly. "Hear the whole story before you make snap judgments.

"Go on, mate," he whispered, patting Louis's shoulder.

Louis seemed smaller, somehow, as if her castigation had truly impacted him. "She's right," he whispered. "You're right." He looked up at her, and she could see the depth of his self-hatred. "Just please let me finish.

"My mother passed within a year, and my father didn't take it well. He became depressed and I didn't make things easier. My mother's death made me angry, hurt. I shirked my studies and went prancing about with the other kids outside the palace. Meanwhile, Liam began studying what I should have been studying and then some. My father mostly ignored me, and I took advantage of that.

"It came to a head a few months after I turned seventeen, when I found I was going to be a father. Her name was Valerie, the girl, and she was sixteen. We'd been seeing each other behind our families' backs. She was of a minor nobility, but she had the freedom I wished for, freedom to live her life without the weight of an entire country on her every decision. I got a taste of that freedom when we were together. She was truly lovely." He gave a sad smile. "I was unhappy with the development at first, because I worried a child would be an end to my perceived freedom, but I did love her and so I married her. My father was pleased, because he thought it would put an end to my acting out. I eventually grew to love the idea of becoming a father myself."

His next pause was the longest yet.

"The marriage was good while it lasted. She gave birth to the twins, but her labor was too hard. Despite the best midwives..." His voice faded and he stood up quickly, moving to the opposite side of the room, facing away from them. "I lost the woman I loved, just as my father had. I held Valerie's hand and watched that joy-light leave her eyes and felt the enormity of what my father had experienced all those years ago, or perhaps a portion of it. I realized then what my actions must have done to him. He'd lost his wife and I couldn't be bothered to do the simplest of tasks." His voice quavered, and she could hear the tears he must have been shedding.

It made sense that they'd all ended up here. First Zayn's emotionally fraught story and now this. Both these men suffered extreme losses at such a young age and she couldn't comprehend it. She had nothing to compare to this.

"It didn't stop there, though," Louis confessed next. "I couldn't bear the thought of staying. I still can't. There are too many memories haunting me here, my mum's death and Valerie's. I left. I left my elderly father to his rule, my eleven year old brother, and my own children because I couldn't face the idea of being a widower, a father, and a ruler. I fled to the sea."

He turned to face them now, his face tear-streaked but determined and frustrated.

"So no, I didn't want to mention all of this before." His voice was soft, but firm. "I know you don't understand it, and I don't expect you to. I've been gone for so long that there's no place here for me anymore. I'm more valuable with Zayn, and this cause is too important.

"You saw how it was when we arrived; I'm more like an uncle than a father to the twins, and Liam makes a better father, just like he makes a better ruler, and a better man.

"As you can imagine, Liam doesn't welcome my visits. What you witnessed is the most cordial interaction that Liam and I have had in the last several years. I couldn't be sure whether he'd even grant us audience. And there you have it." He took a deep breath. "I've bared my soul to you, confessed my faults. My irresponsibilities aside, it's about time you let me know just what's going on here."


	48. Clean

Kalysta didn't speak initially. She wasn't even sure what to say. Even after Louis had bared his soul, she felt foolish having to acknowledge that there was something between her and Zayn.

"Do you remember what I said when we first met?" Louis asked, breaking the silence for her.

"Yes." Her reply was pained because she knew exactly what he was talking about. There could be no question on her maiden status in order for Niall to legally marry her.

"Then you know why I'm so against this!" It was his turn to castigate. "No matter what happens with the resistance, you're going to at least have to go through the motions of making the marriage treaty, at least until we get organized. You can't do this if no one thinks you're a maiden!" His tone was rising. "We already risk too much with this trip, but now you want to risk more!? And for what?"

"For that freedom!" she replied fervently. "That freedom you spoke of so highly! You got yours through Valerie, and he.... he's mine." She looked over at Zayn, finally able to lift her gaze from the floor.

"And look how that ended up for me!" Louis cried. "You're not too young to know how this works!"

"We haven't... no. We haven't done that." And again, she wasn't able to look at either of them. Where earlier she hadn't felt a bit of embarrassment with Zayn, she turned crimson just talking circumspectly about it.

"At least there's something," was Louis's sarcastic comment.

"And what do you have to say for yourself?" he asked, turning to Zayn.

"It is as she said," Zayn replied evenly, "but I would add this: I've traveled with you for some time. Whenever you meet a new woman or get us chased from an inn for gambling them broke, you always say 'We take our joy where we can find it'. That's all we've done." He walked back to where she was and slipped an arm around her waist.

She looked up at him, pleased that he'd so readily defended this. His answering smile was enough to make her chest hurt a bit.

"That was an entirely different matter!"

"I don't see how," Zayn said. His grip tightened on her waist and he turned to press a kiss to her temple.

"Oh come off it already!" Louis protested, looking at Zayn's arm like it was a vile serpent. "You two are making me sick with that!"

"Yes and your behavior with Beatrice was entirely appropriate," Kalysta scoffed.

Louis quickly grinned at the thought and then shrugged. "She's a good visit whenever we're in Cheshire," he allowed.

"I'm sure." Kalysta made a face of disgust. "Regardless of how different you think it is, we've already made the decision and we'll be careful. This won't get out because of any indiscretion on our part. The question is whether or not you can be trusted with this."

"Oh yes, because I don't have enough invested in this mission already?" Again, Louis retorted with sarcasm and it was more than annoying.

A moment of awkward silence passed.

"Well, I'm off to see Elise and scold Everett," he announced. "That boy is worse than I ever was." He turned toward the door, then stopped, turned back, and glared at them with narrow eyes. "Do I need to bring Zayn with me? I know how these things work and no one ever intends for it to move as far as it does."

"Are you trying to be my father now?" was Kalysta's response. "Go. Look after your children and I promise there won't be any new ones when you return."

Zayn snorted, hiding laughter.

"Princess!" Louis gasped. "That was very close to a joke and I approve! Have you finally found your good attitude?"

"Hurry off before that changes," she warned, attempting to hide her scowl. Of course she knew how to joke!

Louis somehow managed to bow to them without showing a drop of respect. "As the Royalty commands."

She waved a hand at him, turning to the bed to grab the rag from it. Louis held a whispered conversation with Zayn, but then the door opening and closing signaled his exit. She took the rag and ran it over her neck, wondering what it would take to get a full washing. Could she get a bath drawn?

"That went better than I expected." Zayn broke the silence and there was humor in his voice. "With the two of you I anticipated more shouting and fits."

"I had hopes to avoid the incident of discovery altogether," she confessed, "but as far as revelations go, it was less dramatic than it could have been." She turned to him and he nodded his agreement. "Just imagine if he'd been here a few moments earlier."

Zayn shuddered and shook his head. "It doesn't bear dwelling on."

"Are we able to arrange for a bath to be drawn?" she asked. "I'm carrying the dirt of three different countries and your ship on me and I'd like to be rid of it."

"My ship is not dirty!" he protested. "Rescind that statement!" He was surprisingly vehement. Apparently Louis was right when he instructed her not to insult the Partheos.

"You're biased, sir," she argued, wondering how strongly he felt about this, "and no I will not rescind that."

"Then no bath for you," he scowled, crossing his arms.

"Fine," she acquiesced, walking over to him again. "She's a lovey vessel of exquisite beauty and I am exceptionally jealous of her because she's cleaner than I am at the moment." She slipped her arms around his back and kissed him quickly, hoping to make him more pliant.

His muscles were clenched rigid at first, but he relaxed to kiss her back.

"Mmmm, you make drowning seem so desireable," he whispered.

"Drowning?"

"Abandoning myself to the bottomless depths of the unknown. It's the only thing I can think of to adequately describe this."

"Get me a bath or I'll make sure it's more than a metaphor."

Another joke, and he laughed at it. Then, he blew a raspberry against her cheek and stepped back.

"Such a forcefully commanding presence," he teased. "I'll see what I can arrange."

\--- --- --- --- --- --- --- --- ---

He returned from his inquiry with a grin.

"I had to pull rank and throw a Royal tantrum, but they're going to bring warm buckets of water in to fill the tub for me since I'm such an important person."

"Excuse you, don't condescend me!" she scolded.

"I'll use the water after you," he added, "so you mustn't be too long."

"I'll do my best," she replied haughtily. She softened her irony with another kiss.

"They'll be here soon," he commented, pulling away after just a second, "and I'd like for you to be out of sight when they get here. Fewer people seeing your face means fewer people remembering you." He motioned to a side door, apparently the dressing room. "Why don't you stay in there and I'll arrange everything."

"I'll allow it," she sighed. "You're most likely right."

"I'm always right," he whispered.

There was a knock at their door and she scurried into the dressing room, which was unnecessarily large. She sincerely hoped no servants would need to come in here or they'd find her lurking in it.

"Yes, yes, I ordered a bath drawn," came Zayn's voice from the main room. He'd adopted a bit of his Ambassador tone, a little entitled and obnoxious. She wondered how she ever tolerated that tone directed toward her in the beginning. His real voice was so pleasant that she was struck with a small happiness that she got to hear it and not many others did. This drew a blush at the thought and she shook her head at her own foolishness.

"No, I don't want your assistance!" she heard him snap. "I don't want you poking and prodding me. Just fill the tub and leave plenty of buckets. I'll call for you when I've finished."

The shuffling was audible as they filled the tub from the buckets and then as they left, but she waited for Zayn to fetch her. No sense in taking more chances.

"Come, Princess," Zayn said, opening the door, "they're all gone."

She followed him into the washroom where a steaming perfumed tub of water sat, waiting for her.

"I'll, er, leave you to it," he said uncomfortably, walking back out.

The minute the door was closed she removed her clothes quickly and stepped into the tub. Sinking into the water was pure bliss. The soap was of good quality and she scrubbed herself hastily, hoping to save some of the heat for Zayn.

It was when she reached her hair that she realized the problem with bathing herself after having servants help for so long. She got out of the tub, wrapped one of the plush towels around her, and padded to the dividing door.

"Zayn?" she called through the crack of the door.

"Yes, Kalysta?" His answer was immediate. "Do you need something?"

"Would you be willing to help me rinse my hair?" She held her breath waiting for his answer.

"Are you... properly clothed?" was his hesitant reply.

"Well enough."

"May I come in?"

"Yes."

She stepped back to allow him in. "I could sit on the ground and lean my head back over the tub," she offered. "I simply can't control the bucket well when trying to pour it over my head."

"That's no problem," he agreed.

"I'll just be a moment." He left the wash room and came back carrying the water pitcher and the chair from their room. And he was shirtless.

She did as she'd said, leaning against the tub and resting her head back, her hair cascading down toward the line of water. All the while, she tried to ignore the man in front of her, shirtless, just as he'd been less than an hour ago on the bed.

She swallowed.

He settled the chair next to the tub and poured the water from the bucket into the pitcher. "Close your eyes. I don't want to accidentally get soap in them." She did as ordered and listened to his movements as he sat. "Are you ready?"

"Yes."

She felt the water trickle from the front of her head as it rewet the rest of her hair. He was combing his fingers through her tresses as he poured the water and it was a lovely sensation, relaxing and serene. When he began humming softly she thought she would simply fall asleep right there on the floor. He continued combing, rinsing, and humming his mellow tune.

"What's your favorite memory of your mother?" she asked quietly, hesitant to interrupt his wordless melody.

He was silent at first.

"I don't remember some things as well as I'd like, but one evening I was asleep in my little cot and my mother shook me awake." His voice was soft and laden with emotion. "I thought there was something wrong at first, but she said, 'Nothing's wrong, sunshine, I just worried that you were safe during the night. You know I love you, don't you?' I assured her I knew and that I loved her as well. Back then I didn't understand the connotation, but now I know why she did it. Like, I said. In Bradford, emotion is a weakness, not to be shown; unfortunately that included love. It's worse than in Cheshire. She never heard from her parents growing up that they loved her. So she wanted to make sure I heard it every chance she got. She did. I knew I was loved long before Murdoch came to take me back with him."

It was a bitter sweet story, for Kalysta felt such an intense sorrow toward his mother, but at the same time, she knew how integral this was in the way Zayn grew up to reject his father's views.

He was done rinsing her hair a minute later and after she thanked him he stepped out to give her some privacy.

She dried off and then wrapped the towel around herself, wondering where she could get clean clothing. Could Zayn make a trip to another seamstress while they were here? However, it wasn't necessary.

"A servant brought new clothes for us," Zayn said when she'd come out of the washroom. "And now it's my turn to finally be a bit clean." He sounded excited at the prospect, no matter how much he pretended not to mind being dirty.

When he'd gone into the washroom she got dressed.

"You should probably get some rest!" he called over the splashing as he got in the tub.

"I can agree to that!" she called back.

The bed really did look inviting. She was exhausted, the kind of bone-deep plaguing tired like she hadn't slept in months. When she finished dressing she crawled under the blankets and drifted into a heavy, dreamless sleep.

\--- --- --- --- --- ---

At some point during her slumber she was disturbed by a bit of movement, but it was gone a moment later and she chased that empty feeling of true rest once more.

\--- --- --- --- --- ---

She awoke to the feeling of heavy warmth and an uncomfortable jabbing sensation against her stomach. When she came to fully understand what it was, she was floored.

Sometime during her sleep Zayn had tucked himself into bed next to her, huddling closely behind her. Now, his front was pressed fully against her back and he'd slung an arm over her body. His elbow was pressing into her abdomen which was uncomfortable to say the least.

This was a strange turn of events, sleeping in the same bed as he did. His warmth was a bit smothering, but she liked the feel of him against her. Except for that elbow. She shifted a bit to move his arm and he groaned, though he stayed asleep. When she was more comfortable she stopped moving, trying to adjust to this newest of experiences. It was only for a moment though.

She moved again, gently and while sleeping Zayn protested, he never woke. He was a very heavy sleeper. And so was she if this was anything to go by. Continuing her shuffle, she turned so that she could face him, though she was still under his arm.

She swiftly decided that his face was one of the most pleasant things to view in the morning. She brought a hand up slowly and traced the line of his cheekbone with a fingertip. He mumbled a bit more, but she continued the line back, reaching his ear and running the finger along the shell of it, pushing aside the long, disheveled hair that hid it. Then, she followed the line of his jaw, down to where his lips pouted slightly, seeming to taunt her. Barely, she drew her finger along the full bottom one.

This motion woke him up and for a moment he seemed disoriented. Then, he looked at her fully and the concentration of his gaze made the heat rise in her face.

He rolled them quickly so he was atop her and planted his lips to hers purposefully.


	49. Master and Puppet

His body was fully pressed against hers and his urgent lips eked every part of self-control she had out of her. There was nothing to do but surrender. Even now she could feel a firm pressure from him against her lower stomach and she knew exactly what that meant, even if she hadn't experienced it firsthand before.

She almost protested vocally when his lips left hers, but he moved them to her neck and below her ear, and to the dip at her collar. He was more skilled than she would ever tell him. Her mind was completely awake now and she reveled in the gentle undulations of his body above her, the way his body seemed to stroke her.

This reveling didn't last long, however. It was as if someone had struck Zayn. He stopped his motions and grew alarmingly still.

"Zayn?" she whispered, wrapping an arm around his back. "What's wrong?"

"Don't move, please," he huffed. A moment later he gently removed her arm and flopped down on the bed beside her.

She reached out to touch him, but he shied away. That hurt.

"Just... be still for a moment," he pleaded.

She lay there, trying to remember how to breathe. The sensation of his lips on her neck was still there almost and she didn't want to lose it.

"I'll confess that I'm not on my best behavior in the morning," he groaned.

"Why did you stop?" She felt weak for desiring his touch so strongly.

"Because I have something I want to take care of," he sighed, looking down at where his body clearly displayed what he meant, "and I would have done just that, taken care of it, if we hadn't stopped."

This frustrated her.

"There's something you do to make sure a woman doesn't get with child!" Kalysta protested. "Or you and Louis would have children across all six nations, I imagine!"

Zayn sat up and looked at her in surprise, then burst into laughter. "You never cease to amaze me, Kalysta," he chuckled. "Yes, there are ways. But I'm a bit bothered that you think so low of me!"

She gave him a withering look. "Then you're saying that you haven't shaken the sheets with at least one woman from each nation?" The thought disgusted her, but she had no illusions as to how a man behaved once he'd come of age. Women were expected to keep themselves wholly chaste until marriage, but men could dally wherever they liked without repercussion. The man before her was proof of that.

He made a face, but didn't answer.

"Just as I thought," she muttered, crossing her arms over her chest and trying once more to calm her body.

"Come now, Kalysta, you know how these things work!" It was his turn to protest. "I'm not proud of what I've done, but I can't change it!"

"I'm not expecting you to!" she cried in frustration. "I simply would like to point out the ridiculous principle that necessitates that I remain untouched while a man gets to gallivant with whomever he likes."

"Ah, yes," he chuckled again. "I had almost forgot your preoccupation with equality."

"Yes, equality!" she spouted, sitting up. "Something that is woefully ignored by everyone! You take your happiness where you can find it, but women can't?"

Zayn simply sat there a moment, staring thoughtfully into space.

"You think a shag is where I find my happiness?" His tone was almost hurt.

"You find at least some happiness in it, or else you wouldn't continue doing it."

"But that's not the only place I find happiness!"

"I wasn't implying that you lack depth," she assured him. "I'm simply saying that happiness can be found that way and it's denied to women until marriage, which in my case will be arranged, and to someone I loathe. How is that fair?"

"I suppose I understand what you mean," he allowed, lying back down and placing an arm over his eyes.

She joined him and placed her hand on his stomach. "Then there's something we can do?"

Zayn groaned. "You really are trying to kill me."

"Of course not," she whispered, leaning over to kiss his neck. "I wouldn't have anyone to bring me happiness then."

He didn't answer. He simply rolled back to how they'd been before, kissing her and destroying any chance she had of changing her mind. The minute he touched her she simply didn't care about what could happen. Which would have scared her if she could think properly. Again, he kissed to her neck and that was when an unwelcome thought occurred to her.

"Does it hurt?" she asked quickly.

He stopped and raised his head to meet her eyes. "Does what hurt?"

She rolled her eyes. "Of course you're going to make me say it: Blowing off the groundsills (A/N: groundsills are like foundations sooo that basically means, banging on the floor, shaking the foundations, etc haha), fadoodling, playing couch quail."

Zayn laughed and let his head fall against her shoulder. "I'll ignore your frightening vocabulary on the subject. We're not actually going to boff."

She frowned at him. "Then why are we still lying here?" she sighed.

"We aren't going to do all that, but like you said, there are other things that can be done." He grinned at her before kissing her thoroughly once more.

That was all they did for a bit. He kissed her lips, the corner of her mouth, and ran his tongue along her lower lip. Then he began brushing his hand up and down her side. It was as if he were getting her used to his touch. She would have assured him it was fine, but then she was too busy with other things.

She pulled away and reached for the buttons on his shirt. She wanted to his chest, those tattoos, and she had enjoyed the view every time it was an option. He allowed it, then returned the favor, urging her to sit up so he could remove the ill-fitting men's shirt she had donned before getting into bed.

It occurred to her that she might feel self-conscious about things. She knew he'd been with a good number of women, probably much more beautiful than she. But at the same time, this was Zayn. He'd already seen her at some of her worst times and it wasn't as if she was hideous. She was cleanly, when she wasn't traveling across the continent at least. He'd seen her at her worst in almost every respect, and still wanted her.

This was confirmed when she laid back down, bare from the waist up. He kissed down her neck, slowly, and placed gentle kisses to one breast, bringing his hand up to caress the other. It was strange that something like this made her feel so out of breath already. "I know what I said before," he whispered, his hot breath fanning over her chest, "but it was a terrible lie. These are perfect." That was all it took. As if the sensations wasn't enough, his words added to it and she arched her head back, pushing her chest up to meet his mouth. She wanted more of this, and he knew it, because while he laughed at her earnestness initially, he responded by increasing the intensity in the motions of his mouth, everywhere on her chest and down to her stomach.

Just like when they kissed, he reverenced her. And she loved it. Places she never knew were so sensitive and responsive lit up under his hands and lips. His fingers traced the lines created at her hips and his kisses drove her crazy as he trailed them along the skin below her navel.

Eventually, he got around to undoing the string on her trousers, but not before she'd been set to thoroughly aching and moaning under the attentive care of his lips on her chest and body. He pulled the trousers down and off her feet and then looked up at her, a knowing grin on his face. "Are you still willing to do this?" he asked.

She simply nodded, unable to form a coherent sentence. In fact, she was unable to form a complete thought except to wonder at the restless feeling she had, how hot she felt, and how much she wanted to rid herself of this ache. He would take care of it, she was sure, but it was an eternity.

He moved his hand lower and brushed his fingertips against the hair around her cleft that she'd always hated. It was a strange feeling and when he pressed in more firmly she took in a sharp breath.

"Shhh," he cautioned before silencing her with his lips. He lay beside her now, his lips sealed to hers and his hand exploring, stroking, and just generally putting her out of her mind. There were places he seemed to focus on at times before he moved to others, obviously testing to find out what harbored her weaknesses. And when he found them he was merciless, stroking, teasing, rolling a fold between his fingers, rubbing one particular spot so quickly she almost cried out against his lips. It reached a point where she felt like she couldn't go on anymore, but the miracle didn't stop. The pleasure increased and increased until he realized how close she was. His hand picked up the pace considerably, his fingers moving in quick circles and alternating that with his thumb caressing that same spot that seemed to have a direct line to the rest of her body.

For her body followed suit. Her legs quivered in time with his thumb and when he moved his fingers she swiveled her hips. Was this what a puppet felt like? It had to be. She was a puppet to its master, his every move controlling her body. He bit her lip gently and moved his thumb more and it was done. She pulled away from his mouth and cried out as the tingling pleasure moved from her legs and center and outward. Her hips moved of their own accord, little stuttering convulsions as she gave out several moaning, mewling noises that she couldn't adequately describe because she'd never made them before. Euphoric pleasure was everywhere and though she had her eyes open she couldn't have said what she was looking at if her life depended on it.

Zayn swore and moved her mouth back to his, where he stifled her cries and continued his relentless massaging. She couldn't determine how long it lasted, but it was more than enough.

The aftermath was an ebb in the sensations and then she simply lay there, feeling as if she radiated heat and pleasure at the same time. Zayn pulled her closer and kissed along her neck, actually licking a bead of sweat from her. She didn't have it in her to protest or do anything but let the pulsing feeling subside. He was curled into her side and he ran his fingrs along her cheek, soothing her.

"See?" he whispered. "You took that so beautifully. No pain. I've got you. And do you feel that happiness?"

She gave a throaty laugh. "I believe happiness does not even begin to describe it," she replied.

It was clear he was still very aroused, yet here he was calming her, talking to her.

"What about you?" she finally asked. "Can we accomplish the same for you?" Turning her full gaze to him, she looked into his eyes, which had widened at her question.

"Are you prepared to do that?" he asked carefully.

"I'm not sure the exact actions, obviously, but I'm willing to have a go at it."

"Would you like to watch first, then?"

She nodded, not entirely sure what he meant.

He grinned and rolled away, lying next to her on his back. Next, he undid the tie on his trousers and shimmied them down a bit, the movement making her stifle a laugh.

"You're not supposed to laugh when a man's dropping his trousers," Zayn protested, pretending to be offended.


	50. Compensation

_"You're not supposed to laugh when a man's dropping his trousers," Zayn protested, pretending to be offended._

And she wasn't laughing when he'd freed himself fully. She had seen a naked man before, but it was nothing like this. Perhaps it was his coloring displayed so prominently or the fact that he was so aroused. She wasn't sure. But she liked the idea of being the reason he was like this.

At his first stroke of himself she was entranced. He was confident in his movements, knew just what was best for him, something she definitely had no idea of. His fingertips along the thill produced quiet puffs of breath and his thumb on the cap made his hips twitch up, a bit more pronounced than what she had seen earlier. She watched his hand and wondered when she'd get the chance to do it herself.

"You like this, don't you?" he teased. "You like watching me please myself?"

She couldn't answer, but she was sure the look on her face was answer enough. She simply looked at him and licked her lips to moisten them.

"Bloody hell," he gasped, leaning his head back. "You can't do that when you're looking at me. It gives me so many ideas for things that we simply can't do right now."

She still didn't answer. There was no telling what her voice would do if she tried. It was sure to indicate just how much she enjoyed this. She was embarrassed that something so forbidden and personal could make her feel that pleasurable ache once more.

He continued and she tried to note everything clinically. Somehow she managed to watch, all while awash in pleasure that rose once more. More full-handed strokes along the thill that increased in speed and his breathing hurried in conjunction.

"I want to try," she said, finally finding her voice. As it was, her voice was deeper and sounded breathless, though he wasn't touching her at all.

"Just watch this time," he answered, shaking his head. "I want you to know what to expect."

"How long does this last?" she asked, running a hand down the line of hair and across the contracting muscles between his hips. She watched his jaw tense at her movements.

"Well, that depends," he huffed, "on how much you continue what you're doing and just how much I want this to go on."

"You can control it?"

"To a certain degree. I can control the speed at least, and that has something to do with it." He went silent, continuing with the movements. When he looked at her she saw just how much he enjoyed this himself.

"I'd love to drag this out, but it's been a while for me." His breathing came in bursts and no longer through his nose. He kept his mouth open slightly and she felt the air fan across her face.

She wasn't sure how best to aid him in this, so she copied what he'd done, kissing him and running her fingers over his chest and abdomen. His responding kisses were hungry, demanding, and she loved it. Though, it didn't help her reciprocating ache lessen any.

All at once he pulled away from her mouth and made one last gasp. She sat back and watched in utter fascination as his legs and back tensed, his hips rose off the bed a little, and with one last twitch he spilled a white, almost clear substance from the split on the cap onto his upper abdomen. He gave a heavy sigh of release simultaneously, still moving his hands albeit more slowly. Hearing of a how a man's seed spilled was one thing, and watching it relieve him was quite another.

She slid from the bed and went to the washroom to get one of the cloths. She tried to imagine having done that herself and she was glad he'd made her watch first. Now she knew just what would happen and she wanted to be the reason next time.

After wetting the cloth with some of the remaining lukewarm water, she went back to the bed and handed it him. He wiped himself and his stomach briskly. Then she curled up next to him while he wrapped his arms around her and kissed her forehead.

"What a morning, Princess," he sighed.

"Yes, quite a good morning," she replied, placing a kiss to a line of ink.

"That was without a doubt the best morning I've had in quite a while," he added.

"If every morning were like this then I might consider enjoying waking up," she teased lightly, running a finger up the divot in the middle of his chest.

"Hmm, I'll see what I can do." His voice was low again and she was reminded forcefully that the ache was back. Would he be willing to oblige her again?

"We need to get up," he whispered, "else I'm never letting you leave this bed."

That certainly didn't help her.

"I'm glad to know the sword you carry isn't compensation," she giggled.

"What?"

"When I first came to your room at the palace," she clarified. "You insulted my chest and I said you were carrying the sword to compensate."

Zayn laughed. "Oh yes, I remember now. And again I say, mine was such a horrible lie."

"Yes, yes, try to absolve yourself now," she teased.

Zayn kissed her soundly and then sat up. "We do need to be up and about. We can't be lounging in bed all day. Or being active in bed all day."

Kalysta sighed and joined him in sitting. She found her shirt and pulled it on.

"I need to find that wrap that Beatrice gave me."

"Eh?"

"She gave me a wrap for my chest to disguise my body more."

She stood and luckily the shirt was long enough to cover the most necessary parts of her figure. As it was, when she looked back Zayn was staring with avid interest.

"I have to say, your pants don't do your legs any justice," he commented lecherously.

"They're not supposed to," she scoffed. She went into the washroom and found where she'd left her wrap, winding it carefully around her chest underneath her shirt.

"Am I allowed to leave the room here?" she asked, emerging from the washroom again. "I'd like to actually see something of these cities we visit besides what the night shows us."

"We'll have to be careful, but I suppose we could attempt it," Zayn allowed. "I wish you would stay on palace grounds, though."

She pouted at him as she pulled on her pants. "What if we left Louis behind so we didn't stand out?"

"And what are we going to do about my obvious Bradian heritage and immediate identification thereby? No one is going to believe you're my cousin for long. They'll want to check into that if we wave you in front of their faces too much."

"Then I suppose you'll have to stay behind and let me explore on my own," she said sweetly.

Zayn laughed uproariously. "That's the funniest thing you've ever said. There is absolutely no possibility that you are going anywhere by yourself." His voice grew dangerous. "You have no knowledge of these cities and you'd be a prime target."

"For what?" It was her turn to laugh. "Robbers? It's not as if I have anything to steal. I am dependent on you for everything."

"It's not happening." His voice brooked no argument. "Just accept that you'll be with me. Or is that no longer desirable to you?" He was back to teasing now.

She threw a pillow at him and almost knocked him over as he was in the midst of putting on his trousers.

A knock on the door had Kalysta rushing back to the side dressing room.

"It's Louis!" he called from outside. "I bring young company so... be on your best... behavior."


	51. Memory Replacement

Obviously, Louis was trying to find a way to alert them without letting anything slip.

Zayn opened the door and Kalysta halted her escape to the dressing room to watch as Louis entered with his children.

Elise was easily memorable and Everett looked so much like Louis that is was astounding. He even wore the same scowl Louis had whenever something wasn't going his way.

"Elise, you've already met, but Everett I'd like to introduce you to Lyra, a friend of mine," Louis said. Zayn closed the door behind them.

Everett simply nodded and crossed his arms.

"Everett!" Louis scolded. "Is that any way for a prince to treat a guest?"

"Well, she's not my friend!" the boy protested, but he bowed a moment later and then took her hand, pecking it quickly with his lips before returning to his previous defiant stance.

Louis just shook his head.

"I've never been able to meet any of Father's friends other than the Ambassador," Elise chimed in. "I wondered, would you like to take a walk in the gardens with us, Lady Lyra?" Her big blue eyes pleaded and Kalysta was more than happy to use this as an excuse to leave the room.

"Of course, Princess," she obliged. She grabbed her cap from the floor and tucked her hair into it, stepping forward. "But only with the understanding that you call me Miss Lyra instead. I'm no Lady. And I would love to see the gardens."

"You talk like a Lady," Elise commented thoughtfully, but she took Kalysta's arm and tugged her toward the door. "Come along, men!" she ordered. "We haven't got all day. Uncle Liam said he'd meet with you all again after midday luncheon."

Kalysta almost laughed at the young girl's charisma and confidence. When she looked back at Zayn he winked, a knowing twinkle in his eye, while Louis simply shrugged and grinned.

They stepped outside into the corridors and were joined by a couple of servants, most likely the children's minders. Kalysta would have felt nervous if Elise had given her a chance to.

The girl was entertaining, to say the least. She chattered on the entire way to the gardens, about the classes she took, the gossip among the noble children, and then gave her opinion on her father's long absences.

"I miss him when he's gone, but I think it's hard for him to be here without mum," she commented sagely, "so I always forgive him when he leaves. Everett doesn't, though." She turned around and stuck her tongue out at her brother.

Everett cooled off eventually, asking endless questions of Zayn about ships, sailing, and the other countries; anything that came to mind, apparently. It gave Kalysta immense joy to listen as he pestered Zayn, who could barely come up with an answer before another question was fired at him.

They reached the passageway that led to the gardens and Louis dismissed the servants to wait for them.

Elise gave a squeal when they emerged into the courtyard that housed the veritable jungle of beauty, releasing Kalysta's arm and rushing into the trees. "Can't catch me, Everett!" she called.

"Not fair!" he whined, running after her. Somehow Elise was faster than he, despite her long dress and petticoats. "You can't call that when you've already run! It's against the rules!"

"What rules, ninny?" she teased back. She was no longer visible among the trees and foliage.

"Don't call names!" came Louis' reprimand.

"Yes, Father!"

Kalysta laughed as the two dashed in and out of view.

"Oh, to be a child again, eh?" Zayn mused.

"Come, Miss Lyra!" Elise called. "Come find me!" The two had given up chasing each other and were now hiding.

Kalysta sighed. "I'll only participate if these two join me!" It wasn't as if she had anything pressing to do, at least until the King made up his mind.

"Yes! Father! Ambassador! Come hide and Miss Lyra will try to find us!" Elise sounded very eager at the idea. Kalysta got the impression that the girl took every opportunity to be around her father. It was precious.

"I'm not playing," Zayn groused, crossing his arms.

"Don't ruin the girl's fun!" Kalysta scolded, hurrying into the greenery. "Go hide!"

She searched for a bit, but didn't see anyone immediately. When she reached the entrance of the gardens again Zayn was still standing there, his arms crossed and looking petulant.

"You're quite easy to find, just standing there," she teased.

"I told you, I am not playing." His voice was that no nonsense, listen-and-obey voice that she'd come to associate with his "Ambassador" role.

"You can't humor a child?" she begged, keeping her voice low.

Zayn's POV

This was a game he'd played with Niall. That was a time back when life, politics, and their father hadn't yet come between them. The game reminded him of a brother that had shown Zayn love the minute their father had brought him from Bradford, a brother that had loved playing, a brother that would take losing quite well. Niall had looked up to him, admired him, and now there was nothing left of that boy in the man Zayn knew. So much change, and not for the better.

"It brings back memories that I don't wish to dwell on," he finally confessed.

Kalysta's answer was immediate. "Then make new ones." She rushed to him and kissed him quickly on the cheek before backing away. "Come find me and I might reward you." She bit her lip gently, giving him an alluring smile, and then turned, shuffling into the flowers and bushes. "Don't take too long!" she called.

He was astounded. And a bit aroused. She was remarkable and there was no way he would let her tease him like that and get away with it. Oh, he'd find her for sure.

He gave her a moment, then shouted, "I'm headed in to find you all! I hope you've hidden well!"

It didn't take long for him to find Kalysta. She had crouched hidden in a bush, but her feet were clearly visible. He walked past, acting as if he hadn't seen her before doubling back and sneaking behind her.

"You breathe too loudly, Princess," he whispered in her ear as he crouched down with her and trapped her in his arms.

She gasped and jumped in surprise, almost knocking them both over. "I didn't want to make it too difficult for you," she laughed. "You need your reward, do you not?" At this, she surprised him by turning her head and kissing him fully on the mouth.

He allowed this for a bit before pulling back. She was as breathless as he.

"Louis will get suspicious if he doesn't see either of us for a while," he commented.

"I was hoping for a longer reward," she confessed, "but I supposed that will do. Feeling any better about this game?"

She was right. New memories helped take care of the old ones.

"Yes," he whispered, allowing another kiss. "I cannot thank you enough for that."

"Good." She moved from his grasp and stood up. "Go find the other three and I'll wait at the entrance. Maybe we can help Elise form some good memories with her father instead absentee ones."

He stood as well and gently squeezed her hand before moving away.

\--- --- --- --- --- --- --- ---

Kalysta's POV

They played a couple more rounds and then the servants came to alert them that it was time for the midday meal. The King had invited them to join him in his private dining room and they were expected there soon.

They followed as the servants took them to the dining room. Elise looked like her world was perfect. She held hands with Louis and looked up to smile at him from time to time. Everett stood on the other side of her and even he looked more relaxed.

The meal was a quiet affair since it wasn't proper to discuss business at the table. Kalysta knew what to look for and now she could see the telltale signs of Liam's malady. He never shifted his position on the chair, never moved his body except to lean forward. It was strange to consider, because he exuded such a confident, strong presence.

Liam asked Zayn questions about his travels, keeping the conversation polite, but that was the extent of it. Kalysta felt the weight of their impending discussion and therefore had no desire to converse unless called upon.

It was likely that Liam would side with them, particularly since he'd spoken towards it in their last meeting. Kalysta couldn't be sure, though. With Harry's decision weighing so heavily she couldn't work up the energy to hope. She would never give up, even when the venture was entirely futile, but she was discouraged.

Once everyone had finished, Liam spoke.

"I will retire to my study until the thirteenth hour, during which time I would ask of your company, Ambassador, you and yours."

"We will be present, Your Grace." A formal exchange, done for the benefit of the servants present, of whom not all were guaranteed to be loyal.

\--- --- --- --- --- --- --- --- ---

Kalysta was nervous and she did nothing to hide it. What was the point? Zayn could sense her mood even when she tried to pretend everything was fine. It was eerie.

They sat in their room with Louis, whose parting from Elise had brought a round of tears from the girl. Now they sat in somber silence.

"What does it mean that Liam reached his decision in less than a day?"

"I thought you wanted this entire matter to be done as quickly as possible?" Louis grumbled.

"Hush," Kalysta spouted. "You know perfectly well what I mean. Either he already made his decision or there was enough going on that he could make a new decision without a lot of thought put toward it."

"Do try not to discourage yourself," Zayn said, walking over and sitting next to her on the bed. He put his hand over hers and squeezed it gently. "Whatever is happening, we'll find a way to help Elysium. We've always done what was needed to help the people of Dalitrise and we will continue."

She couldn't figure out how he knew just what to say to make her feel calm, but then maybe it was simply his presence.


	52. Spear Point

They stepped into the meeting hall and stood before Liam. The time had arrived and Kalysta couldn't believe it. She was terrified, excited, and, despite her best efforts, a little hopeful.

"Ambassador Zayn," Liam began, "when you first came to me and spoke of a resistance, I didn't even harbor a dream that it could come to fruition in our lifetime." He looked at them seriously and Kalysta had to remember to breathe while he spoke. "The idea was too nebulous, without form or direction. I couldn't put my promise behind it, I thought.

"Then, you brought Princess Kalysta before me, a woman, someone without an ounce of authority in most countries a major portion of the time."

His line of thought made her more nervous, but she stayed silent.

"Princess, you stood before me, dressed so improperly as to invite scorn, and presenting your side as unarguable truth. At first, I was taken aback, a bit angry, and bewildered by you. The more you spoke the more I saw your passion, your conviction to this cause, and I can say that you are just what we need.

"This resistance would fail without a spear point, a leader, a motivator, and you are just that. Where the Ambassador is hamstrung by keeping up his appearance of loyalty to Mullingar for the foreseeable future, you are able to stand against tyranny and inspire the people of Dalitrise. Never in my life did I suppose that a young woman would stand up and charge me with a duty that I had ignored. Our duty is to more than just our own nations; our duty is to Dalitrise as a whole, because what affects one affects us all.

"Therefore, I will promise my help, my input, and what forces I possess. Wolvecaster will not let another country fall, if at all possible."

Kalysta felt such a weight lifted from her that she thought she might faint. As it was, her knees gave out a bit and Louis reached out to provide support.

"Thank you, King, Your Majesty," she crowed, unable to keep the joy in. She gained her legs and stumbled forward, kneeling and taking Liam's hand to kiss his signet ring. "I am forever indebted to you."

Liam smiled and shook his head. "You have another country at your side, but I ask that you do no reveal where our loyalties lie unless you are able to gain the promise of Cheshire as well."

Kalysta nodded, confident they could. They had a bit more time and if Velia agreed, they would have a majority of the resistance taken care of.

"I've taken the chance of writing these letters," Liam continued, holding two envelopes out. "It speaks of my promise of support so that both Thomas and Harry cannot doubt your word. I beg you to take care with them, though, for it they should fall into the wrong hands, Murdoch will quickly throw his ire at me."

She took them reverently, saying "I will guard them with my life." She stepped back and turned to join Louis and Zayn once more. Louis looked dumbfounded even still, and Zayn stood proud, sharing a smile with her that lit up his whole face and made his eyes sparkle.

She looked away quickly lest something in their faces betray their involvement to Liam, but she could tell that Zayn was as overjoyed as she, perhaps more so.

\--- --- --- --- --- --- ---

They returned to the room and Kalysta was past excited. The minute the door was closed she turned to Zayn and hugged him tightly, burying her face into his neck. His strong arms were the pinnacle of comfort and shared joy as he held her.

"I can't believe it!" she gasped, full of laughter and short of breath. "We can do this! We can actually do this!"

"Did you doubt it that much?" Zayn laughed in return, moving back a space.

"Not exactly. I was just quite discouraged at Harry's refusal," she allowed. "Do you think we'll be able to persuade him now, Louis?" She turned, but Louis was nowhere to be seen. He hadn't joined them back in the room. "Wherever did he go?"

"He must have planned on our leaving soon for Velia and is saying his goodbyes to Elise and Everett," Zayn replied. "All for the best, I think." His voice lowered and when she looked at him again he kissed her deeply, lifting the cap from her head and wrapping his fingers in her hair.


	53. Gifts and Enthusiasm

She returned the kiss with equal passion, placing one arm around his back and twining her other hand into his hair, pressing herself as closely as possible. She was more than willing to lose everything to the feel of him, the feel of being so alive. They were both so joyful at the turn in their luck that they were even more engrossed in each other. His lips plied her, taking all her focus. They were soft and his ridiculous facial scruff rasped along her chin as he opened his mouth and swept his tongue against hers. She couldn't get enough so she ran one hand to his front and under his shirt, caressing the skin she'd so thoroughly explored before.

"Not fair," he breathed, pulling his lips away to move them to her neck. "If you're allowed to access my chest then I get the same."

She chuckled and stood back, removing her shirt. He groaned in frustration when he saw the wrap she still had on around her chest.

"Yes, I had almost forgotten," he grumbled, pulling at the fabric, trying to find where it began. The process had Kalysta almost in tears laughing as Zayn tried and failed, miserably, to take the wrap off. "You're like the most difficult gift I've ever tried to open," he whined.

She located the end and began undoing the mess he'd made of it. Removing the last swath, she let it fall to the floor and went back to him, embracing him close and reaching up for another kiss.

Her emotions were a knot of excitement and anxiety as Zayn moved them closer to the bed, slowly and subtly. He was moving forward a bit so that she was forced to step back to keep her balance. When she felt the bed against the back of her legs she sat carefully. Zayn followed, gently pushing her until she was laid back on the bed, her legs hanging over for her feet to rest on the floor, his body leaning over her. He kissed down the length of her body, igniting her senses.

He smiled up at her a moment later and asked, "Are you ready to try something new?"

She couldn't begin to guess what he meant. "What? What is this something new?"

"Do you trust me?" he asked next, not answering her.

She looked at him in silence and his brow furrowed.

"Yes," she whispered in the next breath. He grinned widely and left the bed to remove her boots and trousers.

It felt strange to be bare in front of him when he was still fully clothed so she spoke up. "At the very least, you could take your shirt off, Zayn."

He laughed and did so, shedding his top and allowing her to see the strength of his body once more. Then he returned to where he'd been, worshipping her torso with his mouth. Slowly, she became aware of his steady descent along her body. His hands took turns running up and down the outside of her thighs before dipping in to separate her legs slowly. Now, instead of holding himself up with his arms and hovering over her, he rested his body between her legs and knelt on the ground at the foot of the bed.

He kissed and swiped his tongue lower, below her navel and she jerked her body. This was more than simply new.

"What are you doing?" she breathed.

"Trust me," he returned.

"Are you really going to do what I think?" she asked, not able to inhale properly.

"Do you mean, am I going to pleasure and elate this beautiful flesh with my mouth?" His voice was that deep tone that she now associated with his being aroused. "Oh, yes... Yes, I am."

"But that's-"

"Quite common, actually," he interrupted her. "Trust me." Those words again. Could she trust him? She spoke of finding happiness where possible, but this made her more vulnerable that she'd ever planned on being. He asked so much, but gave so much more.

She simply nodded.

His put his lips to her and drifted lower. He reached where the hair started and then pulled away before putting his lips to the lower part of her thigh. Then, she felt those torturous sensations as he slowly moved them up her thigh, higher and higher. Once more, he grew nearer to what he spoke of, but once more stopped just short. He did the same to the other leg. Then it was back to her stomach again, moving downward. The clever man was peaking her curiosity, for now she was simply dying to know what it felt like to be kissed there.

"By the blood of the gods!" she swore. "Please do it already!"

"There we go," he laughed. "That's the enthusiasm I was looking for."

She huffed in exasperation which quickly turned into a gasp of surprise as he did exactly what she ordered. The press was like when he'd used his fingers, but his lips slid more easily, finding everything that drove her wild. Instead of pressure and simple tactile stimulation, his mouth pulled at her . When her body tried to buck, he slipped his arms under her legs and placed his hands on her stomach, keeping her lower body from being able to move as much.

From there, he put his tongue to a wicked use she'd never thought imaginable. As with the last time, she felt hot, too hot, like there was a burning in her body, building and building. She looked down and he was staring back at her, just as before, gauging what drove her mad. The swipes of his tongue and the thrill of his lips pulling at her made her groan. He moved his hand down and put his thumb just above his lips, moving it in time with his tongue. Again, she felt like she couldn't control how her body responded and she wished that she'd had any experience in this, that way she didn't feel all of this so powerfully, so new. It was embarrassing, the gasps and noises she made.

He seemed to want them, though, drawing out the areas that prompted them. Certain motions he repeated in succession and she dug her hands into the bed linens to try relieving the tension winding in her body. Zayn grabbed one of those hands and placed it on his head. She did his unspoken bidding and dug her fingers into the thick raven locks. Then she pulled him against her body with force and he responded by groaning encouragement, which only added to her building tension.

It was getting to be too much. She had to fight to keep her legs from closing against him. How long could this go before she simply perished from all the energy running through her?

Zayn extracted another uncontrolled moan from her before he quickened his pace. Her legs and body tightened and she was the puppet to his master once more. Somehow the energy grew and she arched her back as it released its hold on her. The tingling rush began where he held his mouth and swept outward, taking her vision and control with it. It was exacting and intense and even with her limited knowledge, she could tell that she'd never get used to it.

Zayn moved to lie next to her as she relaxed and returned to her normal frame of mind.

"Hmm," he hummed. "I tried giving you a good cleaning, but you're even dirtier now, I think."

She scoffed at his joke, but didn't care enough to make a retort. It was several moments before she curled into his side.

"I suppose I'll have to trust your judgment and understanding in this area more often," she commented.

"You didn't before?" His voice displayed his amusement and he brought her closer, hugging her tightly against him.

She didn't respond. She simply lay there, luxuriating in her tranquil condition.

They were like this for a bit before she asked, "What about you now?"

"I don't think we'll have time for me to instruct you through it right this moment," he admitted morosely. "Louis will probably be back soon and we need to get moving on. Velia awaits."

She was disappointed, but knew he spoke the truth. "Another time, then," she promised. "Soon."

"Yes," he breathed, kissing her gently. "But thank you for thinking of me."


	54. Drowning or Flying

Kalysta got dressed again, going through the motions of putting on the infernal wrap. However, Louis did not return as they thought, so they went to find him. Zayn was correct in one prediction, though, as they found Louis trying to explain the situation to an inconsolable daughter. They were in a large room with a single bed and walls that were decorated with bright tapestries, exactly what Kalysta assumed would be in a child's room.

"Elise, I have to go!" Louis said for what had to be the hundredth time. The girl's reply was another wail.

Kalysta felt bad, wondering what this poor girl went through every time her father left.

"I thought we had fun playing!" Elise sobbed. "Did you not have enough fun? Is that why you're leaving so soon?"

"Oh, child, I had more than enough fun," Louis sighed. "That's not the only thing I have to consider, though. You know that we all have things we have to do, even if we don't wish to."

The girl nodded and sniffed. "It's simply not fair."

"I agree, but that's the way life is." Louis gave her another hug before she turned to Kalysta and Zayn.

"You'll take care of him, promise?"

"Of course, Princess," Kalysta said. "I'll keep him locked up in a box and then I'll deliver him safely back to you."

Elise laughed and shook her head. "You don't have to do that. Just keep him from getting into trouble."

"I'll do my best."

"And I will as well," Zayn added.

At that moment, Everett stepped into the room. He took one look at Elise's teary face and frowned. "You're leaving again, aren't you?" he asked, voice calm.

"Yes, Everett, I'm sorry," Louis sighed. "I have to go, but I'll be back soon."

"It's fine," the boy shrugged. "You're always leaving anyway." His manner was indifferent, but his shoulders slumped and Kalysta's heart went out to him. No matter how much the boy pretended to be apathetic, or showed his father anger, he held a hurt that indicated a boy that was trying desperately not to need his father.

"It won't be like this forever." Louis' voice was pained as he walked over to hug his son. "I'll come back for good here soon."

Everett simply nodded once more, quickly hugged Louis, and then fled back out the door.

Elise moved to hug Zayn and then came to Kalysta.

"Lady Lyra, I've enjoyed meeting you," she said formally. Her hug was not so impersonal, though. She squeezed Kalysta with surprising strength. "Please come back with the Ambassador," she pleaded.

"I'll do what I can." Kalysta hoped she would get the chance, but couldn't be sure.

Finishing their farewells, they went to see Liam one more time.

"I've sent one of my men to give supplies to Mahir," Liam said when they joined him in the meeting hall. "He's at The Lazy Badger."

"Thank you, Your Majesty," Zayn said, bowing.

"You have my deepest gratitude, brother," Louis chimed in.

"Yes, I'm sure I do." Liam's reply was sardonic. "Persuade Thomas and this won't have been in vain. Don't let those letters out of your sight, Princess," he added.

"Your alliance is safe with me," she promised.

They left the palace and Kalysta felt the joy of success give an added energy. Finally, all the pieces were falling into place.

\--- --- --- --- --- ---

"The Lazy Badger?" Kalysta said as they approached the inn. "I don't think I've ever heard a more ridiculous name for an establishment."

"Innkeepers aren't known for their imagination," Zayn replied. "However, Mahir knows his inns. This place has the best beer around and the best gossip; that's no coincidence."

Finding Mahir was easy. He was sat in the common room and, despite the early hour, there was a crowd of people. They watched where he was sat at a card table, obviously in the midst of a big wager. The center of the table held an exorbitant number of coins and items of jewelry used as collateral.

While finding him was easy, it was not so easy making it over to him. The individuals didn't want to give up their view and every eye was on the game Mahir was in.

"What's going on?" Kalysta asked quietly.

"This bloke has been gambling those men broke," a random man next to them answered. "Never seen someone so good at cards. He's won almost every hand except some small pots here and there. They accused him of cheating the first night, but he came up clean."

"I thought cards was based on luck, not skill," Kalysta whispered in an aside to Zayn specifically.

"It's about reading people, actually," Zayn clarified. "And no one is better at that than a Bradian. In a country where displaying emotions on the face is frowned on, you learn how to interpret body language. Mahir is particularly good at this as well."

Kalysta couldn't understand what he was talking about. None of the men playing seemed to be showing emotion on their faces or in their body language. "Whatever do you mean?" she asked. "I don't see anything."

"It's there," Zayn mused. "Observe closely."

She tried, but again couldn't detect anything.

The men each threw a coin into the pile until it reached Mahir. He tossed in three coins.

"Oh, yes, he's got them," Zayn whispered.

Kalysta couldn't find a visible change.

One man threw his cards facedown to the middle of the table. The others threw more coins in and then they all threw in their cards, face up. The other men groaned in unhappiness as Mahir grinned and scooped the coins in the pile toward himself.

Zayn gave a low whistle and Mahir looked up sharply. Their gazes met and Mahir nodded.

"Unfortunately, lads, that's my last hand," he announced, standing.

They all protested. "Let us get the chance to win our money back!" one called.

"Do you think that's possible?" Mahir asked, seeming to tease.

Some men chuckled at his words while a few looked genuinely angry.

Mahir made his way toward them.

"Were you profitable?" Mahir asked, clearly hinting at Liam's decision.

"We were, in fact," Zayn replied, smiling.

"The horses are out in the stable," Mahir said. "Let me grab my things from my room and I'll be right out."

He bustled upstairs and Kalysta joined Louis and Zayn as they walked outside to the stable adjoining the inn. There, they saddled the horses, Kalysta a little slower that the other two. They had saddled their own horses as well as Mahir's before she had finished with Starling. Louis came over to help, cinching in the straps a bit more and checking everything over.

Mahir was there just a moment later.

"Let's leave quickly, shall we?" he suggested.

"Some of your gambling friends not taking your abrupt departure so well?" she asked, laughing a bit.

He gave her a strange look, but shook his head. "More so that the people here know I've won a lot of money. I'm sure more than one has considered robbing us already and I'd rather we don't give them the time to organize."

"I quite agree," Kalysta said. She took a couple of the bundles that Mahir held out and strapped them to Starling. Louis and Z did the same. "What are these?" she asked.

"These are the supplies that Liam so generously provided us," Zayn answered. "Let's hope Thomas is in a good mood and lets us stock up in fresh water well enough before we leave. Then, we'll be set for heading back to Elysium."

They were silent then as they finished wrapping up and stowing the supplies before leading the horses out.

\--- --- --- --- --- --- --- ---

They mounted up when they got a less busy street. Night was falling and people were starting to turn indoors. Zayn moved to lead, lighting a lantern in the process, Louis followed behind him, and then it was Kalysta with Mahir bringing up the rear, just as before. It took a bit, but soon they were out of the city and on a road leading north.

"It will be about a day's journey from here to the border of Velia," Zayn said, "so we'll pick up the pace. We've all had some good rest and now we'll make up time travelling. I think it would be best if we ride for two hours and rest ten minutes. Try to eat and do your business in those times. On the road it will be easier to go quickly; that we'll take at a trot. When the time comes to cut away and head west, we'll pick up the pace even more."

Kalysta couldn't believe it, but she was actually starting to get used to all the traveling. Getting into the saddle wasn't painful to her legs like it had been at the beginning. She was an accomplished rider, but out of practice. If returning to the ship was this easy, she would be more than happy.

They stopped to rest, but Kalysta didn't want to sit. She walked about a bit before stepping into the trees that ran alongside the road. They were beautiful trees, obvious even in the poor lighting, and alive with night animals that went silent at her approach. She went further into the trees, but made sure to keep the light of the lantern always in sight.

Zayn's POV

Kalysta had gone into the trees, seeking some solitude most likely. They'd been spending almost every hour in each other's company and from what he knew of her she needed time by herself to collect her thoughts. He'd noticed that she had become more and more on edge as time had passed. He would give her a moment, but these woods were by no means safe. Bandits weren't unheard of, and she seemed unlucky enough to stumble upon a vicious wild animal.

"What's gotten into the Princess?" Mahir asked.

Zayn coughed, erasing his improper thought at the question before responding. "What?" he asked.

"She seems a bit... different," the man pointed out. "She actually tried a joke back there. And she's less bossy and cross with us. What did Liam say that changed her irritating personality to this?"

Zayn gritted his teeth but didn't show any other sign of how Mahir's words bothered him.

"I suppose the Princess is finally realizing what is necessary to achieve the ends she desires," he expressed. "Her previous actions and temperaments were not helpful, and she's adapting."

"Yes, I'm sure that's it," Mahir said, completely untruthfully. "Have you told her about Thomas yet?" he asked next.

"No."

"Why not? She deserves to know the truth."

"I don't want to worry her unduly," Zayn said, side-stepping the issue.

"She should be worried," Louis interjected. "She has no idea what she's walking into and you're just going to let her be."

"We don't have any proof," Zayn snapped, "so unless Thomas mentions it I will remain silent, as you two will as well."

"I still say it's a bad idea." Louis' voice was now pleading.

"Thank you for your input. I'm going to go relieve myself and then we'll start forward again." Zayn stepped into the trees in the opposite direction in which Kalysta had taken, intending to double around and find her before something else did.

Kalysta's POV

She was startled abruptly when she felt hands close around her waist from behind and the owner dragged her to be held against them.

"You really shouldn't wander in the shadows by yourself." Zayn's voice relaxed her. "You never know what might be lurking out here." His hands moved upward to explore her body and he kissed her neck gently, making her stifle a laugh.

"Do you mean strange men that are too free with their hands?" she asked, closing her eyes and leaning her head back on his shoulder.

"Perhaps," he breathed against the column of her throat. "But you like what I do with my wandering hands. And lips. And tongue."

She had to work to control her breathing.

"Aren't we supposed to be resting?" she asked.

"You don't find this restful?" He kissed her neck again and sucked gently, making her wish he had those lips elsewhere. His hands were still moving, brushing up and down her body. When he circled his thumbs on her hip bones she sucked in a desperate breath.

"Not particularly restful, no," she said, her voice breathy. "You're making me feel... very awake and we don't have time for all that."

"We have ten minutes," he whispered in her ear, "and you won't be able to hold out that long for me."

His words drove her crazy. Every portion of her body was hyper-aware of where they touched, his hands over her torso, his lips on her neck, her back against his chest, and his hips pressed into her.

He turned her and kissed her, but unlike their most recent kisses this one was slow, drawn-out, a seal and promise. She couldn't figure out what was promised, but the impression was there regardless. While his arms around her kept her from moving, she was more trapped by his lips and the way his tongue carefully ran along hers. He clouded her mind and she couldn't believe she was still overwhelmed by a kiss after everything they'd done.

"I have to get back," she whispered the minute she could collect her wits.

"Let them twiddle their thumbs," Zayn whispered against her mouth.

It was a tempting suggestion, but she had to try to be as rational as she could when this thrilling man said such things.

"Mahir doesn't know anything specific regarding us at the moment and it's best he stays unaware," she pointed out. "If we're gone too long or return at the same time then he'll be more than suspicious. We need to be careful." She said these words, but Zayn made her want to be anything except careful.

"You're right," Zayn sighed, stepping back to put some space between them and looking at the ground.

"It's so peculiar," Kalysta said.

"What?" He looked up.

"We make the other feel such different things," she commented.

"Whatever do you mean?"

"You say I make you feel like you're drowning, but when you kiss me I-I feel as I'm flying," she answered, blushing at how silly she sounded. What on earth was she saying? That was about the most childish thing she could say.

"You know what it is like to fly?" he asked wryly.

"I imagine birds feel like this as they wing through the air." If he were trying to make her feel a fool then he'd succeeded.

She couldn't see his face, but the intensity of his gaze was more of a sensation than anything else.

"What if I told you that I feel both of those things with you?" His voice was low in vulnerability and she felt like her heart would beat out of her chest.

"I would say you are a walking paradox, then, Ambassador Zayn," she breathed. She kissed him once more and then extricated herself from his grip to return to Louis and Mahir.

This was dangerous, so much more dangerous than she could have anticipated. That first time he'd kissed her hand, the night of her birthday, she'd felt a spark of the inferno that threatened to swallow them now. One wrong move and they would be consumed and there was no way to determine the level of collateral damage.


	55. Velia

"Are we going to stop for the night?" she asked after they'd been on the road for a bit longer.

"I hadn't planned on it," Zayn answered. "Would you like to stop?"

"I'll be fine," she assured him quickly. She didn't want to seem weak, but she was exhausted. "Why don't you three tell me about Thomas? I know very little of him for someone who is going before a King."

"I'll tell you what you need to know," Zayn said quickly, slowing his horse to ride back with her and letting Louis take the lead.

"King Thomas is a bit of a riddle," he began. "I will say this about him, he will answer your questions truthfully. He's not one to bend the truth to fit what he wants. However, he can be cruel in his justice, so I can't predict how he'll behave. He hasn't been the most sympathetic toward our cause, but he hasn't entirely rejected it either. I've been hoping that more occasions meeting with him would press him to change his mind."

Of all the countries, Velia was the least discussed and had the least involvement in politics, so this made sense. By some twist of fate, the smallest country in Dalitrise was also the most militarily capable and militarily enforced. Kalysta had learned very little of the culture compared to the other nations.

"Do you know any of his habits or ways of behavior?"

"He is... intimidating," Zayn confessed. "And I don't say that lightly. He is powerful both politically and physically. He stands about the same height as I, but his arms are three times the size of mine and you feel he could crush you if he had the chance.

"When he speaks, it's in a deep, quiet voice, but you have no trouble hearing because his presence commands that everyone listen. His people respect him, show him ultimate loyalty. If there were a person to hold your temper around, it is him. Losing it, shouting, insulting him, will gain you nothing."

"I would protest your assumption to this being my way of behaving, but history says otherwise," Kalysta sighed. She mulled this over in her mind. She couldn't deny that she was a bit frightened at the concept of facing a man that had such an impact in Zayn's mind. They couldn't predict behavior, but Zayn was intimidated and that said much of Thomas.

What could she do to persuade this man? Getting the measure of him upon first meeting wasn't ideal. She had already known much more about the other rulers and then Zayn and Louis had given her more information. Now, she felt like she was entering this truly blind.

Her only knowledge of the culture in Velia was that they put an express importance on military training and in the reducing of needless distractions. She'd heard they lived stark and rigid lives, focusing on strength and cunning as opposed to intellectual growth and achievement. It wasn't a wrong way to live, just different.

They rode through the night and Kalysta could barely keep her eyes open. A few times she drifted to sleep, lulled by the repetitive motion of Starling's easy walk, but she startled awake each time, vividly remembering how she had woken up to bandits back in Elysium when she had first started on the journey. That time felt like an eternity ago. So many things had changed. She wasn't the same person she'd been.

Her only joy during the journey was the rising of the sun. The new dawn stretched across the sky and cast shadows from the trees on the horizon and brought the first glimpse of the road that led to Velia.

Zayn finally called for rest during the middle of the day as they neared another copse of trees.

"We'll stop here," he announced. "Stay out of sight here in the trees."

Kalysta felt she had barely laid down and closed her eyes before Zayn was shaking her awake again. The sun was still up, but it was getting toward evening and she was simply exhausted. Riding now was becoming tedious.

As they grew closer to the border, they veered around a group of trees and saw the wall separating Velia from the other nations. Kalysta had seen the wall where it divided Velia and Elysium, but it seemed even more foreboding now. It was made of stone, about twice her height. Though not too high, it was enough to deter bandits and such. This country had a deeply ingrained military focus and a gripping distrust for outsiders. They traded with the other nations, but no other country had the same border restrictions.

The trio approached the large wooden gate set in the stonework.

"Do not open your mouth," Zayn whispered. "I will do all the talking. We can't let them know you're Elysian. I'll pretend you're my cousin, but you need only give off a haughty Mullingan attitude. Do not speak, under any circumstances."

"Yes, yes, I understand," she breathed.

Almost imperceptibly she felt his hand brush against her lower back, as if he were trying to bolster her. She tried to take courage from him and put on a good face, but she was truly terrified.

"Who approaches for access to the King's domain?" a man called from the wall as they came closer.

"I am Ambassador Zayn of Mullingar," he returned. His official voice was back in full. "This is my cousin, Calvin, studying under my tutelage. The others are my associates." They received no introduction because they wouldn't be considered important unless royalty.

"Aren't you a little young to be training a pupil?" the man asked. "And what business do you have? I know that you arrived from the north for a visit not even a fortnight ago."

"I have immunity and a right to go unquestioned between countries as an Ambassador," Zayn snapped. "You have no reason to detain us and I have business to be about. I have come to see your king and I'll have you know, my father would not be pleased to find out that I'm being kept from my duties."

Another man moved to join the first one on the wall and the two held a hurried conversation. The first argued vehemently while the other seemed to be attempting to placate him.

"Very well," the first man called down. "You may pass. Hold to justice and do not linger."

Zayn didn't answer as the gates opened before them. He led the way and this time Kalysta followed right after.

She looked around as they passed through. The land on the other side was much the same. Except for the wall there weren't many things to distinguish. Grass stretched out before them once more for as far as the eye could see, broken only by the occasional grove of trees.

They rode away from the wall and as Kalysta turned to look behind them, she saw the wall guard watching them.

"Are they all that hostile?" she asked.

"They are careful who they let through, that's for certain," Zayn allowed. "Careful documentation is kept for each traveler."

"I can't imagine they get many visitors, then."

"They don't encourage it, no."

\--- --- --- --- --- ---

That evening passed much as the last had. They rode through the night and then slept during the middle of the day, taking cover in the shadows of the trees. This time, though, Zayn allowed for more sleep.

Kalysta woke without prompting after night had fallen once more. She looked around and noticed Zayn sitting a little ways away, staring out into the darkness. Carefully, she stood and walked over to him.

"Shouldn't you be resting?" he said when she sat down, paralleling their last conversation.

"I've had enough," she responded. "I haven't taken my turn on watch for a while. You can go sleep if you like."

"We'll be leaving soon anyway."

They sat in silence for a moment.

"What will you do if you can't persuade Thomas?" he asked.

"I'll do what I need to," she answered. "I'll prolong and muck up the marriage negotiations where possible and give you more time to talk to the other rulers. Do you foresee this going poorly?"

"Thomas is a hard man," Zayn sighed. "He's always been my biggest worry. If he stays with his current stance of un-involvement then we'll be losing a valuable asset. Velia is really Murdoch's only military threat and I believe he means to have the rest of Dalitrise under his rule before he attempts a fight with Thomas. If we had him on our side it would be the final stone that threw the weight in our favor. While Cheshire and Wolvecaster are important as well, Thomas would lend invaluable aid to our cause."

"We'll do what we must," she answered, hiding how much his words discouraged her.

Zayn reached over to grasp her hand for a moment before he stood and helped her up.

"We must be on the move."


	56. Ripples

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Picturing Tom Hardy as King Thomas. If you've ever seen his character in Peaky Blinders, just picture that but with a little less WWII-caused cancer.

The Royal City of Etharia was a severe change in the landscape that appeared about midday. The buildings cut into the landscape abruptly, stark outlines against the grass and sky. The city grew bigger as they approached and Kalysta was surprised by just how bleak everything looked. There was hardly any color to break the harshness of stone and woodwork.

As they approached, a squad of soldiers filed out and surrounded them.

"Stay quiet," Zayn repeated.

A man stepped forward out of the group, hand on the pommel of his sword. "What business brings you here?" he barked forcefully.

"Ambassador Zayn of Mullingar with entourage," Zayn replied with equal venom. "I would meet with your King and as Royalty myself I am wearied by the ill treatment I continue to receive. Take me to your King and be assured that he will hear of this!"

Kalysta was surprised when the man laughed uproariously.

"If you wanted to be coddled you should have gone to Cheshire, not come here. I'll bring you to the palace, but I can't promise that the King will grant you audience."

"It will be seen as a personal affront to my father if he does not grant me one," Zayn hissed.

The scathing look the man returned was more than insubordinate. "Yes, I'm sure it would be."

Something was very off about this situation. Never had she seen anyone so blatantly disregard Zayn's authority and perceived backing from his father.

With a wave of his hand, the man stepped away from them and led the way down the street. When their group made to follow, the soldiers around them formed into two lines on either side of the horses, effectively trapping Kalysta and the others between. The soldiers' movements were regimented and unified. They moved as one entity and it was not only amazing to see, but frightening as well. If the rest of the military worked as seamlessly, there would be quite the reckoning for anyone standing opposite them.

Everywhere she looked, Kalysta saw evidence of how military matters permeated everyday life. There were more blacksmiths, farriers, and weapons shops than there were anything else. Shops selling household wares were few and far between and the items sold were bare of any decoration. It reflected their life styles, apparently, functional and without superficiality.

She also noticed that most women had their hair cut short like the men. It was a strange thing to see. Only a few women had hair past their shoulders.

Everything was different from what she was used to seeing. Some children played in the streets, but they were very young and played obviously military-themed games, swinging sticks at each other and fighting in organized ways that belied their age. There was almost too much to take in all at once.

They turned over their horses at a stable outside the palace before they were escorted inside. To call the building a palace would be generous. It was more of a castle, as regimented and harsh as everything else. There were no lavish items to be seen anywhere.

Being led inside, Kalysta grew more nervous. Not only did she have very little idea about this man, but the very atmosphere and mood of the place frightened her. She wouldn't be able to appeal to this King's empathy or compassion in to order to win his favor. She would have to use the idea that Velia wouldn't be able to stand against the rest of Dalitrise if Murdoch got his way. Once more she felt incredibly out of her depth.

\--- --- --- --- --- ---

They were outside the throne room.

"Ambassador Zayn of Mullingar and entourage, begging an audience of His Majesty, King Thomas the Great." A servant was announcing them from inside.

There was no audible reply, but apparently they were being granted audience, for the doors opened before them. Zayn moved forward immediately and Kalysta scrambled to catch up. As they moved inside, Kalysta's fear grew. Every single person in the throne room was armed and tense to say the least.

Thomas stood at a table at the very end of the hall right in front of the throne. The table held maps, and various papers. Apparently, they'd interrupted an important meeting since there were many people in the room, some seated behind desks, others standing in various locations. All appeared to have been about something before the arrival.

Now, Kalysta took time to inspect the man of the hour. Thomas was more than she had expected. Even after hearing Zayn's description, the power in the King's presence couldn't be overstated. While he was not tall, it was clear he could handle himself well in battle and the way his eyes scrutinized them told her that he was a shrewd and intelligent man. He was rough and, frankly, scary. Would a man such as this give her notice at all?

"Ambassador," the king greeted. He leaned against the edge of the table and the muscles in his shoulders rippled, intimidating Kalysta further. "I had hoped not to see your face for quite some time. Your unveiled threats when last we met still sit heavy in my mind and I can assure you my position is still the same. Why have you come before me again?" His voice was as quiet and gripping as Zayn had described. It was ominous, though she couldn't detect the note in it that made it so.

"Does an ambassador require a reason for looking in on allies?" Zayn sneered. They stopped just before the table. There was no bowing this time. Kalysta was ashamed of her cowardice, but hid herself from Thomas' gaze, keeping Zayn's body between her and those calculating eyes.

"You don't view us as allies, but as potential threats," Thomas declared, calling him out. "If your father wishes to make friends, perhaps he should keep his filthy political fingers out of the other countries' business. I find no threat from him worthy of note, for Mullingar would destroy itself in any attempt to gain Velia. I stand aloof. I support neither side and your father's continued prodding does not curry him favor."

Zayn pretended to grovel a bit before him. "Come now, Your Highness, surely you don't see this as prodding. My visit last was to make sure I could be confident in your stance. Now, I bring word that Elysium's darling Princess has taken ill. Negotiations may soon cease and I wished to warn you of the possibility of Elysium sending emissaries asking for help."

"They will be given the same as you," Thomas said. "I stand with neither of you, and I grow weary of Murdoch's malcontent."

"No, no, he is content," Zayn rushed. Even acting a part, this was the most obeisance he had ever paid a ruler. Kalysta knew Velia was strong militarily, but she'd never realized how little power Murdoch held over them. Velia truly did stand independent, with no political sway toward either position.

Thomas would be the most difficult to persuade of all the rulers, then, for he truly had nothing to lose. If the rest of Dalitrise disintegrated into war, he would be free to sit behind his walls and perhaps take his pick of the cleanup. And maybe that was what he desired. When Dalitrise fell crippled under the clouds of war, he would be the only one strong enough to take control and rule.

"We are accomplishing nothing at this moment, Ambassador," Thomas growled. "You may take your leave for now. I will see you tomorrow and then you may share whatever information you deem necessary. Until then, leave me to my discussion with my advisors."

Zayn bowed slightly before turning on his heel. He walked carefully toward the exit and Kalysta fell in behind him, Louis and Mahir after her.

She looked back for one last glimpse of the King.

He returned her gaze, intense and focused. He knew she wasn't just some member of the entourage. Somehow, he knew.


	57. For All the Wrong Reasons

In the process of leaving the throne room, a woman stepped from amongst the group of people on the sides of the room and grasped Zayn's arm. Her beauty was a strong, capable kind, hair short in the fashion of Velian women, but her grace and elegant facial features left no one the possibility of mistaking her gender.

"Ambassador," the woman greeted lowly. "I must say that it's a pleasure to see you again. You left so quickly the last visit that we never had the chance to meet and discuss our opportunities for trade." What she said was entirely neutral, but her tone was seductive. She spoke in a breathy way. The familiar manner in which she touched his arm and brought her body close told Kalysta exactly what this woman desired to "meet" and "discuss". Women across all six nations; Kalysta had been right. In this case, she didn't want to be right. Jealousy had no place in... whatever she shared with the Ambassador, but it was there nonetheless.

"With tensions so high it would not be possible to discuss business right now, Lady Katherine," Zayn replied. "I apologize"

Kalysta was more than pleased with his response, but still felt full of inadequacy and jealous petulance. This woman was clearly in her prime, beautiful, sensual in her movement and fully capable of being whatever a man desired. Beside this woman, Kalysta saw herself as childish, bumbling around and playing dress-up. It was not a feeling she usually got and she loathed it, frustrated that Zayn had such an effect on her emotions.

They left, following a guard, but Louis broke away from them with a nod to Zayn.

"Where is he going?" she whispered in aside to Zayn.

"He has an... understanding with the palace cook," Zayn answered, "for whenever he's in town."

Kalysta didn't need further explanation. She knew exactly what that meant. It was probably the same unspoken understanding that Louis had with Beatrice.

It wasn't long before Mahir broke off too, making some excuse that he would be in the town, gathering information.

There was something else on her mind, though, something she couldn't stay silent about.

"Who is this Lady Katherine?" she asked him, keeping her voice low so the guard couldn't eavesdrop. She wanted to seem nonchalant with her question, but that was impossible. "Is she another ally of ours?"

"Do you really want the particulars of how I know her?" Zayn sighed.

"You have an understanding with her, I suppose, so no, there's no reason to go into all that." It wasn't as if Kalysta had any right to be jealous; they weren't making any promises, so Zayn was still free as far as it was concerned. That was painful to consider. If Zayn were to go to that woman that evening, Kalysta couldn't protest with any rights. The only way to protest would involve expressing her feelings and she would keep that to herself, for both their sakes. Why complicate things?

The silence that settled was awkward. She was jealous and didn't want to absolve him, but there was nothing he was at fault for.

Upon reaching their room, Kalysta was surprised once more by how bare and rigid it was. If these were guest's quarters, meant to cater to other nation's visitors, she shuddered to think how sparse and unwelcoming the regular living areas were. She didn't think she'd ever be able to adjust to a lifestyle like this. She enjoyed the arts, music, and all things that the people of Velia deemed as frivolous.

The guard closed the door behind him and Zayn spoke up immediately.

"Are you angry?"

Kalysta didn't respond at first, making sure to truly analyze how she felt before saying anything. "Yes, I am," she whispered, "but I am angry at the situation, not with you."

"What situation is making you angry?"

"I'm angry because I'm... I'm jealous and I have no right to be," she croaked. Saying it aloud was even worse. She sounded petty. "You could go to that woman. You could go to her tonight and I would not be able to voice a complaint." She turned away from him and curled her arms around herself.

"You think I would do that?" he asked quietly, a hint of anger detectable.

She turned back to look at him. "You have a past with her; I couldn't fault you for it."

His eyes narrowed and the intense scrutiny made her light-headed.

That moment he was glaring at her and the next he was striding across the room and kissing her soundly. She couldn't comprehend what had happened, but she welcomed the chance to be in his arms again.

He drew her passion out. The way his mouth moved tore away at her restraint and had her winding her fingers in his hair and clutching his shoulders and back. Slowly, the urgency of the kiss diminished into a gentle response in their lips.

He pulled away and rested his forehead against hers.

"I don't share that with her," he breathed. "I don't have that with anyone else. To go to another now would be searching for a dim mockery of what it is to be with you."

She was speechless, so she replied the only way she knew how, kissing him. What he'd said explained exactly the way she felt as well, without putting either of them into a vulnerable place. She had nothing to compare it to, but she couldn't imagine feeling this way about anyone else.

He cradled her head in one hand and his other slipped to grasp her waist and hold her more firmly against him. She sighed into his embrace. His words made her feel so much better. She couldn't believe the power this man held over her. It was both amazing and frightening. She couldn't keep her hands from him. Whenever they kissed she couldn't help her fingers slipping under his shirt to grip his back or running them up the muscles of his arms.

Neither said anything, but they slowly moved to the bed. As always, Zayn laid her down gently and pressed himself against her. This was enough to distract her from the matters of state that weighed on her head. Carefully, she slid her fingers under the hem of his shirt and tugged it up. It caught on his arms and he chuckled before pulling away and removing it entirely. He returned his lips to hers.

A worry developed in her mind, though. Though he said he felt more for her, that other woman had surely been willing to offer more than Kalysta could offer as a virgin. It consumed her thoughts then and she couldn't shake it.

"I want to try," she whispered a moment later. She ran her fingernails up his back and he shivered.

"Try what?"

"Everything." She almost felt embarrassed. Almost.

"Kalysta, no," he sighed.

"Why ever not?"

"What's the real reason you want to do this?"

She frowned. "I want to feel that happiness.'

"Really."

"Well, I... I don't want you to regret staying with me," she whispered.

"No," he said again. "I don't know if we'll ever try, but if we do, it will be because you want to, not because you think you need to in order to hold my attention. You won't get happiness like this. It will make you miserable."

She was embarrassed, but tried not to show it. "Are you sure?"

"I am entirely sure," he answered. "I'm not the most morally upright man. I've hurt women before doing just this, being too willing to accept what they're offering for the wrong reasons. It was wrong then and it would be wrong now."

Kalysta blushed, not wanting to hear about other women, but he was right. She knew better. This damnable man was right and this damnable man made her crazy. Never before would she have considered something like this.

"Yes, you're right," she whispered.

"I am, most times," he replied loftily.

She rolled her eyes and kissed him once more.


	58. Nature vs Nurture

They lay still, holding each other for a time. Kalysta still felt the embarrassment of realizing just how much she wanted to keep this man's attention. She had never cared before, so to care this deeply now was an insult to her pride.

She found herself running her fingers along the tattoos on his chest again. It didn't seem possible that she would ever grow tired of it. However, as her mind wandered, she was able to consider the conundrum she faced.

Thomas was not only showing open rejection of the resistance, but outright hostility. What could have happened to make him so disinterested in the plight of his fellow men? It didn't make sense to her.

"Why is Thomas so adamant not to stand with anyone?" she asked. As she said those words she felt Zayn's entire body tense from where she was curled around him.

"I'm not quite sure," he answered. "Thomas has always been fiercely independent of the other nations on principle. He despises politics from what I can tell."

She couldn't be sure, but it seemed he was withholding something from her. Last time her suspicion had been this roused was when Louis had been holding onto his secret. She'd been right on that occasion; was she right for this one as well?

"I don't want to think about all this," she voiced aloud. "Distract me please." The last part she whispered and then she kissed his chest.

"I told you we aren't going to try right now," he said warningly.

"I'm not an idiot," she grumbled. "There are other ways to distract each other as you've so aptly demonstrated."

"I'm not sure that's a good idea," Zayn said uneasily. "We don't know when Thomas will be willing to meet with us. It could be any time and now we won't have the buffer of Louis being the one to come fetch us. We might encounter another guard and I wouldn't put it past them to simply jaunt in here unannounced. Velians aren't well-known for their respect of privacy and that would present us with quite a problem, would it not?"

"I was hoping you'd finally teach me how to take care of you," she pouted. "And I'm dressed as a boy. They'd just think you favored men and had brought your companion along for your pleasure."

Zayn sputtered and coughed. "That would be worse, I believe. Velians are categorically against such... behavior. It's punishable very harshly here."

Kalysta gasped and sat up. "You can't be serious!"

"Unfortunately, I am," Zayn replied, sitting up as well. "There is a pronounced weight placed on furthering the nation and its military prowess. Anything seen as a hindrance to that is outlawed. In this case, favoring someone the same sex as yourself removes people that would normally be reproducing and making the nation greater. If any hold those sentiments they keep it to themselves."

Kalysta was appalled. The very idea of it was ridiculous. "How does that make any sense?" she protested. "If you love someone, does it matter whether it's a man or a woman?"

"Here it does," Zayn sighed. "It is seen as detrimental to the furthering of their society."

"I'm still having a hard time believing it," she returned. She lay back down, considering it in her mind. "I'm trying to think of all the people in this nation who are told that their very being is wrong. It's despicable."

"It's best not to dwell on it," Zayn said.

"You may be able to do that, but I cannot!" Her voice was louder than she wanted, so she quieted a bit. "It sickens me to think of it and I can't believe this doesn't bother you more!"

"What good does it do me allowing things to get my temper up?" he cried. "I can't do anything to directly affect their policy. Why should I let their handling of affairs rile me?"

"Because apathy, lack of sympathy at least, indicates that you have an incredible number of things wrong with you!" She rolled away from him and crossed her arms, furious.

Zayn puffed out a breath, got up, slid into his shirt, and walked out the door.

"Because leaving helps the situation at all!" she called after him.

There was no indication that he'd heard her, so she was left to stew in her anger.

How on earth could he simply not care about something like this? He had never been so cruel before. What in his life could lead him to be apathetic when someone else's very rights were being infringed upon?

Perhaps she had misjudged him. Truly, there wasn't anything either of them could do about the situation. She simply couldn't think about it without being angry, though. When she was young her mother had talked to her about it after Kalysta had seen two men walking in the street holding hands. It was simple. People were different and it wasn't within anyone's right to deny someone happiness as long as it wasn't harming someone else. She'd been raised that way.

Come to think of it, Zayn had not been raised to think of people in such terms. The only goodness he'd known was from his mother and he'd been taken away from her when he was five. All the positive ideals he held now were of his own determination. There were bound to be a few he either hadn't considered or had been led astray on.

With that thought, she realized how terrible it was to assume he would believe everything she believed when he'd been raised in Mullingar. She supposed an apology was in order, but she'd have to wait until he returned to the room. If she went out looking for him he would probably explode with fury. It wasn't as if she knew where to look for him either.

She resigned herself to waiting... impatiently.


	59. Helpless

Zayn returned that evening, obviously inebriated. He hiccupped the minute he stepped into the room, giggled about it, and almost tripped over his own feet. By some unimaginable feat he managed to enter the room, close the door behind him, and slide to the ground.

She wasn't sure how to take this. The fact that he was drunk irritated her, but she couldn't very well be angry at him anymore. She would hear his side of things instead.

He stood and stumbled toward where she was sat on the bed. He tripped over his own feet again and fell to the ground to which she gave an exasperated sigh and lay back down.

"What did I trip over?" he complained petulantly. "Did you leave your shoes on the ground? Or is there a rug here?"

"Are you blind as well as flushed, you jackass? You tripped over your own feet."

"No, I doubt it," he grumbled from his spot on the floor. He heaved a breath and stood, moving toward the bed. As he collapsed he groaned, probably because Velian mattresses were about as comfortable to collapse on as the floor. "These stingy, backwards, uneducated..." His stream of insults faded out and he rolled over to where she was, grabbing her and pulling her up so that her head rested on his chest.

"I didn't think Velia would allow the consumption of alcohol," Kalysta commented lightly.

"Mahir brought some with him," Zayn laughed. "And don't sound so disapproving. As I recall, you posed as a serving wench and distributed alcohol."

Kalysta wasn't going to rise to his provocation, as he so clearly wanted. Sloshed Zayn was even more maddening than she could have imagined, but that didn't change the fact that she needed to apologize. She'd said some harsh, poorly-thought words.

"I'm sorry," she whispered, wrapping her arm around his torso.

"That's quite alright," he replied, genial in his befuddled state. "I have had a bit much to drink." He chuckled and sighed.

"I'm sorry for what I said earlier," she clarified. "I shouldn't have called you apathetic, or insinuated such things. We come from very different upbringings and sometimes I forget that." She waited for his response.

"That's quite alright."

His repetition and quick dismissal didn't help them resolve the conflict, but then she doubted he would remember much of anything in the morning. She simply kissed his neck and tried to squeeze in closer. She ended up half perched over his body and he sighed.

"What's wrong?" she asked.

"I quite enjoy the feeling of you against me. However, I am unable to do anything about it."

Kalysta was confused. "But I'm already here."

"Yes, but I find myself incapable of rising to the situation. What a sad predicament. You were so willing to partake in certain... activities earlier and I am more disposed to the idea at the moment. Alas, I am betrayed by the vice of the brew. I'm simply unable."

She was stunned, blushing madly at what he was circumspectly admitting. There was no way any man would declare such an issue normally, and the thought made her laugh.

"It is for the best, I surmise," he continued, his voice a rumble in the ear she had pressed against his chest. "The drink brings out the worst in me, I fear."

"I'm not so sure," she teased. "All I've heard so far is philosophy."

"Don't tempt me," he joked back. He poked her side, kissed her head and then was still.

It had only been a minute before a soft snore resonated from him. The man had actually fallen asleep!

She got up and placed the chair in front of the door so they'd have a bit of warning before someone entered the room. Then she lay down next to Zayn again. Sleep proved to be much more elusive for her, however.

\--- --- --- --- --- ---

The morning came with the arrival of Louis in their room, which was fortunate since Kalysta was not nearly as responsive to someone's entrance as she had hoped. She sat up quickly when she heard a noise, but he was in the room before she could get out of the bed and keep anything from looking suspicious.

Louis gave her an annoyed look. "Yes, because a chair was going to deter anyone." His voice became even more mocking somehow. "Oh no, there's piece of furniture in my way, I obviously can't come in."

"I think I liked my life better when you weren't in it," Kalysta admitted.

"I think both of you should shut your yaps and let me get some sleep," Zayn groaned.

"How pissed did you get? Bin that; you were drinking and didn't invite me?"

"I figured you'd be busy." Zayn turned over and put a pillow over his head.

"Get up, both of you," Louis commanded. "Or have you forgotten you're to meet with King Thomas privately later today?"

Zayn gave another groan in protest, but sat up anyway. "I didn't sleep the best. Someone we know moves around a lot in their sleep."

"Oh come off it," Kalysta complained. "You were like a blasted fire over there and you insisted upon sleeping on me."

"Enough, we need to discuss what we're going to talk about with Thomas." Louis was having none of it. "Oh, Zayn, was there something in particular that you wanted to broach on the subject?"

"Sod off, Louis," Zayn warned.

"Thomas seems so hostile already," Kalysta observed sadly. "I'm not sure there's anything I could say that would change his mind."

"If that's the way you feel then perhaps we shouldn't meet with him at all," Zayn offered.

"How can you say that?" Kalysta couldn't believe her ears. "We traveled this far and you're willing to leave without even talking to him seriously?"

"I'm simply saying that wasting time at this juncture may not be fortuitous."

"Absolutely not," she responded angrily, standing from the bed and moving to wash her face in the water basin by the door. "We have one ruler on our side and that's all we have. We need Thomas to agree; I'm not above begging. Besides, what would we do if we went back now?"

"We would continue our next plan, going through the motions of the marriage treaty until we can gain further help from the other nations."

"I'm not falling back on that until we have no one else to turn to."

"Very well." Zayn sighed, standing as well. "What's your plan for talking to him then?"

"I was actually hoping you two would help with that."

Louis snorted.

"Is something funny?" Zayn rounded on him.

"No, no, of course not," Louis answered quickly. "Listen, Princess, your best option is to tell him the truth. You are here seeking help because Murdoch is threatening Elysium. If he isn't willing to help then you've done what you can."

"I despise being so pathetically helpless."

"It's a sad fact of life that we are all helpless before someone," Zayn said quietly.


	60. Secrets Don't Make Friends

They walked toward the meeting chambers and Kalysta couldn't help the uneasy sense that overwhelmed her. She had a bad feeling about it all. This meeting wasn't going to go well, that's what this told her. Breaking down her own confidence prior was probably a bad idea, but she couldn't shake the perception that she was headed for disappointment.

Stepping inside, Kalysta felt like she was going to be sick. She removed her cap, letting her hair fall down and glanced at Thomas for his reaction. The man looked stoic for the most part, but his mouth twitched upward in what appeared to be satisfaction. Somehow, he knew.

"Well, well, well." Thomas spoke first and she was correct in assuming he was satisfied at this piece of information. "I'm not particularly fond of Elysians, but this is low, even for you. Am I correct in concluding that you are, in fact, Princess Kalysta of Elysium?"

"Yes, Your Majesty," Kalysta responded, grateful when her voice didn't quaver.

"I never realized it, but I would have paid good gold to see an Elysian dressed so ridiculously." The man actually snorted.

Now, Kalysta's opinion went from intimidation to restrained anger.

"I'm not here to discuss wardrobe, Your Majesty," she said, attempting to keep the conversation on the path she wanted. "I've come on behalf of my country. Since I'm sure the Ambassador has kept you well-informed, I know you are aware that King Murdoch of Mullingar has finally made his play toward Elysium, citing failure to follow tradition as an indication that Elysium has fallen under questionable leadership. As far as desperate ploys go, this is quite ridiculous, but I can say for certain that if Elysium were to face the might of Mullingar and Bradford together we would fall before Murdoch easily.

"With this in mind, I humbly ask for your help."

Thomas stared at her for only a second before he laughed.

"And I thought Elysians to be prideful, sitting on their coastal pedestals of grandeur and enlightenment, looking down the poor, uneducated and misled Velians," he said, laughing further, "but clearly you have no pride at all! How far you have fallen, Princess! So far!"

Kalysta gritted her teeth and stared at the ground. Now was the perfect opportunity to prove him wrong, to keep her anger and pride in check. "Whatever your idea of Elysians, I hope you will see us as we are now, in desperate need."

"My idea of Elysians?" Thomas grew serious abruptly. "I can tell you I esteem them lower than the excrement I scrape from my boots after visiting the stables. You are back-stabbing, petty little boils on the arse of this continent. You sit on your high thrones and think to look down on us. Perhaps you should realize you are not as noble as you view yourselves. In believing yourselves above us, the other nations have surpassed you in every way."

"That's awfully rich coming from a King that punishes his subjects for loving someone he doesn't approve of!" she cried. "You are the lowest of low and that isn't my simple opinion. People can't help who they love and it is despicable to punish them for it!"

She expected an immediate scornful response, but the look in his eyes was surprising. All she could see was fear and a painful sorrow the depths of which she could only envision, never understand. Why would Thomas feel pain at this subject matter? Surely he didn't have any personal feelings toward the subject? Kalysta wasn't so sure.

She almost felt she'd imagined it, though, for his face was schooled into rigid control a moment later. That pain and fear he'd briefly shown was too indicative of something deeper hidden behind his anger and caustic behavior. There was something else going on.

Now, his face was vindictive, punitive.

"Did the Ambassador ever explain why Elysium was the last country approached to be part of the resistance? Murdoch's eyes were clearly on Elysium, yet our loosely connected alliance has never approached you until now."

"He didn't," she admitted, frustrated she hadn't thought to question that already. She turned to Zayn. "Why was I the last to know?"

He didn't answer immediately, looking weary and sad. He gave a heavy sigh. "There is suspicion that... someone... in power in Elysium is sympathetic to Murdoch's cause."

"No!" she gasped. "That's simply not true!" She rounded on the king. "It isn't true!"

"Save your protests for your father, Princess," Thomas retorted in a snide voice.

"My father has been working against Murdoch this entire time!" Kalysta protested.

"Yes, but only once Elysium was threatened. Did that escape your notice? Have you ever asked why he turned away from one of his closest friends, King Naseer? When Naseer approached your father for help in overthrowing Murdoch's rule in his country he was brushed off. What does that tell you?"

"No," Kalysta breathed, still not fully comprehending the entirety of the situation. "I can't believe you would falsely accuse him of something. Did Naseer tell you this himself? You have no proof!"

"No, I don't suppose there is," Thomas mused. "Regardless, I'm even less inclined to help Elysium than I would be, say, Wolvecaster or Cheshire. You lot have made your bed; now sleep in it."

She couldn't believe it. Of all the things that could have happened, she hadn't prepared for this at all. Thomas looked at her like she was barely better than Murdoch, only barely. She was aware that her father had kept certain things from her, but surely she would know if he was collaborating with Murdoch!

"Thank you for your time anyway, You Majesty," Zayn said, bowing.

"No, I haven't finished!" Kalysta exclaimed, trying to regain her composure. It was difficult after such an upheaval, true or not. "The whole of Elysium should not be punished for one person's ill-thought actions or loyalties."

"It doesn't matter," Thomas dismissed. "I've made my decision and I won't be swayed. I hope you enjoy the mire your father has thrown you in."

"King Liam of Wolvecaster has pledged his support!" she cried out, anything to stop this avalanche of disappointment.

"He's a fool, then," Thomas scoffed. "He'll have the same fate as you, no doubt."

Zayn clasped her arm. "There's nothing more you can do," he hissed. "Do not antagonize him further. We have to go."

She wrenched her arm away, furious. She put her hair up in the cap and stormed from the room, not bothering to see if the other two followed. They could stay here for all she cared. She'd walk home if necessary. The only people she thought she could trust had kept back information so vital she was staggered by its enormity.

"P- Kal- Wait!" Zayn called after her. "Slow down!"

He attempted to grab her arm again, but she pulled away and swung her hand, bestowing his face with a resounding slap.

At any other time his expression would have been comical, mouth gaping in astonishment.

"Calm yourself," Louis said, catching up with them.

"I'll hit you too," Kalysta hissed, "just give me a chance. You two are vile! You let me walk into that room and beg a man who had such a low opinion of me! To hell with both of you!"

"Now is not the time to discuss it!" Louis was frightened.

"Burn you both!" she snapped back. "I've had enough of it!" She continued on her trajectory toward the room. If they thought this was anger, they would get sufficient reeducation back in the room. Tearing them limb from limb was too good. All this time they'd been holding this back! What a fool she'd been to trust either of them!


	61. Missed Simplicity

"How could you do this!" she shrieked the minute the door was closed. "I trusted you! I trusted you!" This last was aimed at Zayn who was still rubbing his cheek. "What on earth could you accomplish by keeping this from me? What was your ploy? Was this entire thing a farce? Answer me, you abominable pricks!"

"Princess, calm yourself," Louis hushed. "This isn't the time or place to discuss it either."

"Oh, I think it's just grand, you swine. I'm not going anywhere with you until I hear what in the name of the gods possessed you to think this was a good idea!"

"I made Louis and Mahir keep silent on the matter," Zayn confessed quietly. He was sufficiently subdued from her blow.

It occurred to her that perhaps she should hit Louis as well and make him more cooperative.

"That's simply excellent, Ambassador," she snapped. "I'm glad to know you're the mastermind behind the deceit. I'm quite comforted." She turned and kicked the chair over. It wasn't nearly satisfying, though, for the chair simply thudded to the floor without nearly the noise and dramatic excess she desired. Looking at Zayn gave her some delight, though, for her handprint was clearly defined on his cheek.

"I shouldn't have kept it from you, and for that I apologize," Zayn admitted, "but I feared this exact reaction. If you had known of the suspicions we had for your father then it would have crippled you long before now."

"Why would you not tell me before I went to Thomas?" She was quieter now, feeling more of the hurt of the secret.

"I-I'm not sure." Zayn ran his hands through his hair anxiously. "There never seemed a good time to tell you. This wasn't easy news to deliver, no matter the time or place. I'm sorry."

"That's a coward's plea," she hissed, anger rearing its ugly head once more. "I can't believe you let me stumble around like your lackey, just allowing me to make a fool of myself in front of every.single.ruler. It's a wonder they even let me speak with that weighing in on their opinion of me. Damn you both."

"I-" Zayn tried to speak, but she cut him off.

"Save it, Ambassador!" she yelled. "I don't want to hear it anymore! Take me back to your blasted ship and take me home. I'll deal with this in my own way. I don't want any other help from you on this matter." She turned and strode from the room.

\--- --- --- --- --- ---

They caught up, but stayed silent, walking slightly ahead of her so as to make it appear that Zayn was still in charge. That horrible man wasn't in charge of anything anymore as far as she was concerned. He couldn't be trusted to level with her on something so important and that was proof enough that he had no issue holding things back from her. What else was he keeping from her?

It was no matter. She would do things her own way now. She would marry Niall. That was the only option left to her. Marrying Niall, as repulsive an idea as it was, provided her the only escape from war with Mullingar and Bradford. No other choice could be gleaned.

They found Mahir quickly.

"H-how did things go?" Mahir wasn't the brightest, but even he should have been able to sense the mood of the group.

"How do you suppose it went?" Kalysta snapped. "We're headed back to the ship and I'm going home where I can be rid of the lot of you."

Mahir caught on promptly and led them to where they had stowed the horses.

"We won't be stopping to rest anymore," Kalysta ordered. "We will travel hard to your ship. It's only about a two-day journey to the coast, correct?"

The question wasn't directed toward anyone in particular, but Louis answered.

"Yes, Princess, it is."

"Maybe we can cut that down to one if we travel quickly enough."

"It's past midday, Princess," Mahir pointed out. "We can run the horses during the day, but once night falls I can't allow it."

"That's not up to you, now is it?" Kalysta didn't care what he said. She would be making the decisions now. She'd been at their mercy for too long. It was time to take command of her life back.

Mahir remained silent, to his benefit.

\--- --- --- ---

They didn't have nearly the hassle leaving the city that they had upon entering. The guards let them pass unhindered and Kalysta turned Starling north. She nudged him into a swift gallop, determined to keep that pace until one of the horses showed signs of tiring. The gods knew they wouldn't be stopping for her. She was determined to reach the ship as quickly as possible and get back to Elysium.

More than once during the ride it crossed her mind that she could simply leave them. Elysium lay directly to the west and it would most likely be easier to travel without them. Velia was obviously kept under a tight leash, so bandits wouldn't be an issue. She could make it home in a little less than a week and be rid of them that much sooner.

Something stayed her, however, other than the consideration that she'd left all her things on the ship. She couldn't figure it out exactly, but she felt a trepidation in separating from them, whatever they had done to her. She had put everything at risk on this venture and it would take a lot for her to abandon them, no matter her anger.

So she stayed.

\--- --- --- --- --- ---

She only ate when they dismounted to give the horses a rest. The sun was setting, but Kalysta made sure they kept moving. She simply grabbed food from her saddle-bags, more of the old bread and stale cheese, before walking on and leading Starling. They would walk through the night if need be. She wasn't giving in to exhaustion and she wouldn't let them give in either.

As night fell she came to grips with how tiring it would be. Already her eyelids felt heavy and she wished she hadn't been so angry before. She couldn't very well admit to weakness now or she would lose even more face.

She steeled herself and continued forward.

"Mahir, do you possess a compass?" she asked, still walking.

"Yes, Princess," the man answered quickly.

"I would be much obliged if you would lend it to me."

There was some rustling and Mahir stepped up a bit to give it to her.

She could barely read it by the light of the moon, but she made sure to adjust their course so they were headed due north. Getting lost would be another horrible thing to round out the day.

"Will your ship be in the correct place, Ambassador?"

"Yes, Princess," Zayn answered. "My men have the coordinates. They'll be at anchor off the coast of Arcanum."

She didn't answer. She simply continued on the course, checking every so often to ensure they didn't stray.

By the time the sun rose, Kalysta was more than ready to ride. She was exhausted and her feet felt like they would fall off any moment. Not communicating with the other three, she pulled herself into Starling's saddle and nudged him into a canter.

There was the distinct noise of them mounting their horses and grumbling, but they followed after her dutifully.

As they approached a bit of water, little more than a pond, Mahir finally spoke up.

"Princess, even if you don't need to rest, the horses do. They haven't had much to drink or eat the past day and it's not good for them to have their saddles on for too long. They could develop sores on their backs or suffer worse problems from heat or exhaustion. We must stop to rest, even if only for a little while."

She knew she seemed more and more petulant as the time wore on, but she couldn't help it. These men still infuriated her. She almost couldn't look at them without wanting to strangle one or all of them. But Mahir spoke the truth. Even Starling was having a rough time of it, fine horse though he was.

She slowed to a stop at the pond and dismounted, immediately moving to remove the saddle from Starling's back. It was a confusing set-up, however, and she grew frustrated. The men clearly were making better progress with their mounts and it rankled. She knew how to saddle and unsaddle a horse, but for some reason her mind simply wouldn't cooperate. The ties and buckles seemed foreign to her.

When her eyes blurred it took her another minute to realize she was crying. She wasn't surprised, necessarily, after such a horrible and extensive day. Sometimes her emotions caught up with her before she could analyze them clinically.

She swiped at the tears and was trying to continue when a pair of arms wrapped around her and skilled hands began accomplishing what she couldn't in unsaddling the poor horse. At first, she lashed out, swatting at the arms, but Zayn gripped her wrists and held them to her sides.

"Don't be a child," he whispered. "I'll take care of it. Go. Sit."

She wouldn't cry in front of him. He'd seen it too many times already.

She ducked under his arms and fled to the edge of the pond where she sat, disregarding the mud that immediately soaked into her trousers. She couldn't be bothered to care anymore and let her head fall into her hands. What was the point? Everything had gone so completely wrong and she was on a swift course toward a life of bitter unhappiness. Sure, she could fantasize about killing Niall in his sleep, but what would that accomplish? It would incite a war and that was just what she wanted to avoid.

She missed the old days, when things were simple, when the decisions she made didn't hold such weighty consequences. This entrapped feeling was agonizing. No matter what happened now, she couldn't change it. The only good way out was getting the other nations to side with her, to help her.

It was no use. It was hopeless and the crushing despair she'd felt at King Harry's refusal was compounded tenfold with the enormity of what she faced.

"Princess, we have a fire going if you'd like to join us." Mahir's voice came from behind her.

She stood wordlessly and joined Zayn and Louis by the fire. Staring into the flames calmed her and the heat warmed her after the mud had leeched some of the heat out of her. Everyone was silent and she was glad for it. If they had tried to talk now she would have broken down completely. As it was, she felt close to it anyway.

After a while, she looked around for her saddlebags. She located them and moved to grab her blanket from them.

"Since we're already stopped we might as well rest," she allowed, spreading her blankets out to sleep on. "I don't feel like taking a watch so you three can argue that amongst yourselves."

She slid into the blankets and pulled them over her head, both to block the sun and to cover the tears that flowed freely once more.


	62. Fire and Ice

"Princess." A voice stirred her. "It's sunset. Would you like to continue on?" Zayn didn't shake her or touch her, a good idea on his part.

She didn't answer, simply standing and packing up her blankets to put in her saddle bag.

"I've already saddled your horse," he continued. "You can just place your bags on and I'll tie them down."

Looking at him would just be painful, but she did it anyway, turning to him briefly.

His face looked a bit sunken and there were dark circles under his eyes. Yesterday she would have been concerned if he'd gotten any sleep, but she stayed silent and simply looked at him. He returned her gaze and what she couldn't accept in his words she saw in his face. He was sorry.

Was that enough, though? She was still so angry. After all they'd been through he had still actively chosen to keep it from her. That was what she'd been sensing all along, his trepidation when she questioned him about Thomas' hostility.

She saw that sorrow and didn't want it, so she spun from him and made her way to Starling, carrying the blankets wrapped up. After she had slung them up onto the horse's back, Zayn tied them down as promised.

They started forward, walking the horses as the last of the light faded over the horizon. Kalysta was glad for the darkness. It hid her perpetually leaking eyes and allowed her to contemplate it all without the eyes of those blasted men on her. She led the way again, headed due north, with only the moon to allow for visibility.

The more she contemplated, the sadder she became. No, they hadn't made promises and no, she hadn't expected their little affair to be the thing of legends, but was it too much to ask for human decency? This was such an important piece of information to leave out.

She decided that she was done crying. He had chosen to keep it from her, he had made a fool of her, but she could take control of her life again. Upon returning to Elysium she would find out the whole truth and finish the negotiations for the marriage treaty. And she would refuse to work with Zayn. Rulers did that sometimes. She could demand to work directly with Niall himself. That would save her from making a further fool of herself.

She would do what was necessary.

Morning light brought with it the sight of Port Arcanum, the coastal Velian city they had stopped at for supplies all those days ago. She had the discomfiting feeling that it had been weeks and weeks ago, not just days.

They rode around the city, not bothering to enter. No one approached them as they did not come near the city. Kalysta preferred it that way. She wasn't sure if she could keep up this farce for much longer, not with how everything had turned out.

"How are we to signal the ship?" she asked as they neared the shore.

"I'll take care of that," Zayn acknowledged, digging in his packs. He grabbed what appeared to be a small looking glass. It took him a moment, but he moved it so it reflected the light out to sea. He moved the glass back and forth several times.

"What will that accomplish?" Kalysta asked skeptically. "We can't even see them. Won't we have to wait until they come closer to shore?"

"Our visibility is limited," Mahir answered. "We may not be able to see them, because our vantage point is lower to the level of the sea. We can see about a mile at the moment, but they could be anchored about three miles out and the man in the crow's nest still be capable of seeing the shore. If they're where they're supposed to be then they should be able to see us easily. They'll have a boat out here to ferry us to the Partheos before the end of the day."

It seemed a bit ridiculous, but then Kalysta would readily admit that she knew little about the sea. If they said this would work then she'd have to take their word for it.

Zayn dismounted and began unsaddling his horse. "I'll give it about ten minutes and then I'll repeat that, just in case they missed it. We might as well get comfortable until they come for us."

Kalysta did the same and this time she was able to remove Starling's saddles and set up her own blankets to sit on. She stared out at the sea and removed the cap from her head, allowing the wind to blow out the strands. It was silly how she could purpose not to cry and her body refuse to cooperate. At least they wouldn't be moving for a bit. It had been so long since she'd been able to just sit without considering where they would be running off to next.

Zayn's POV

He stared as she sat by herself, blanket spread in the sand and curled in on herself. It was so difficult to see the reason for his consternation sitting there and not be able to do anything to fix it. She wouldn't listen to him, of that he was sure.

He'd seen her angry, but this was so very different. Before, her anger had been powerful, captivating like an all-consuming fire, but where had once been a blaze was now the chill of the frozen winter. And this frost hurt him more than the flames.

What was worse was that he deserved it all. He had always deflected her anger because it had been misplaced until now. Why hadn't he simply told her when Louis had pressed him? It was fear, perhaps. He had known that the longer he held the information from her the angrier she would be when the truth was out. And the truth would have come out at some point. It was a miracle that Thomas was the first to mention it. Perhaps it had been an attempt to allow her the perceived innocence that her father was still a good man. Zayn's own weakness was a factor for sure. As more undesired feelings reared up in him the less he wanted to ruin things.

Now he was paying the price for his foolishness.

Kalysta's POV

She sat staring at the sea until she saw a speck emerge on the horizon.

"Is that it?" she asked quickly, pointing.

"I believe so," Mahir answered, standing next to her. "They'll be several hours still, but at least they know we're here."

Kalysta nodded. She took another blanket out of her pack and laid down, pulling it over her head . If it was going to be that long then she would catch up on some rest. In the event that she encountered that sickening mal de mer out at sea again, then she knew she wouldn't be getting any good rest on the ship. She would make up for it now with any luck.

\--- --- --- --- --- ---

She was shaken awake by Louis in the late afternoon.

"They're here, Princess," he said, standing and moving aside. "We'll be ready to leave in a couple of minutes."

It took her a moment to focus, but she packed her stuff up and stood, waiting for directions from one of the men.

Everything was a bustle. The men were loading the packs onto the boat. One was hurrying down the beach toward the city leading the three horses they'd purchased in Cheshire. Zayn was talking to another in hushed tones that still carried.

"You'll do as I say," Zayn hissed, gesturing quickly.

"I'm tellin' you, the men will mutiny," the other man said worriedly. "There's no way they'll go for this."

"A mutiny?" Zayn asked dangerously.

"You know what I mean, Captain." The man sighed. "This is mental!"

"As soon as Hafiz returns to the _Partheos_ after selling the horses and fetching the men, we're going to set sail for Elysium. That's my final word."

Kalysta tried to ignore them, but her interest was piqued once more. What other secrets was Zayn hiding? The thought was difficult to stomach. He could have any number of things that he didn't make her privy to. It was clear he held no regard toward keeping her informed.

She shook her head to rid herself of that line of thought. Getting back to Elysium was all she cared about. Whatever other secrets the Ambassador had he could take to his grave for all she cared. It was only a matter of time before she washed her hands of this absurd resistance and the man behind it all.

Everything had been loaded and Louis gestured for her to climb aboard. She did, with a bit of help from a few of the men. She was seated at the front again, since she would simply be in the way of the rowers otherwise. They pushed off and this time she didn't even turn around. She simply stared forward toward the Partheos and let the wind sweep past her.

\--- --- --- --- --- --- ---

As evening fell they approached the _Partheos_. Another, smaller, boat approached about the same time, ferrying the men that had been picking up supplies in the city. Kalysta climbed the rope ladder first and, immediately upon reaching the deck, fled to her quarters below decks.

Her trunks were still there, as was the stained mattress and nailed down furniture. For some reason unknown to her, this familiar sight was a comfort that brought tears to her eyes. She lay down on the bed and gave in to the tears once more, and for what she hoped was the last time.


	63. The Sea, A Capricious Lover

She was roused from slumber as the ship gave a great lurch and she fell from the bed, landing painfully on her side. A dozen swear words crossed her lips and when she tried to stand she fell heavily against the door as the ship lurched again. What the hell were they doing, hitting reefs with this big stupid ship?

With great effort she wrenched the door open and stepped into the hold. Things tumbled around her as the ship heaved and she felt a wave of water rush over her feet. Something was very wrong.

Quite a bit more time was taken to reach the ladder, but she did. It didn't even matter how dark it was. She was stumbling so much from the violent movements of the ship that her path wasn't straight anyway. She climbed up the ladder and used all her might to open the hatch.

The sound of crashing waves and a torrent of rain struck her. A storm? What was going on? As she looked around she could barely make out the men as they moved frantically, tugging lines and releasing others. A wave of sea water washed over her and knocked her down the ladder.

She shook herself and stood as quickly as possible before climbing again.

"Zayn!" she screamed, clutching the ladder. "Louis! Where are you? What's going on? Mahir!"

"Princess!" Mahir was the only one that answered. He ran to the hatch, hair slicked down from the rain, and stumbling as the ship lurched more. "Get to your cabin, NOW!" He shouted over the noise of the storm and his voice was brooked no argument. But she couldn't leave now.

"Where's Zayn?" she called, frightened. This was a terrible situation, but she couldn't go below without knowing he was safe.

"He's taking care of it! Now, he'll kill us both if he sees you out of your quarters! Get below and stay there!"

She began to descend once more when a wave came, knocking Mahir over and tumbling her down the ladder again. It was impossible to tell where he had gone. Had he been swept overboard? The concept was frightening and despite his warning she climbed up the ladder once more, just to be sure he was still on deck.

The water was bone-chilling, but she persevered. She reached the deck and was barely able to stand. As she looked around, there was no sight of Mahir, but she couldn't see very far around her. She moved toward where she knew the upper deck to be. Maybe Zayn was there.

She was pitched against the mast as the ship moved. The entire thing was terrifying. The rain was beating down so hard she felt she was drowning when she opened her mouth and it kept getting in her eyes, making walking that much more difficult. She grasped the mast for her life, realizing just how foolish she was. If she had any sense in her head, she would go to her quarters, just as Mahir had said. Unfortunately, she didn't, and she was consumed with the need to find Zayn, to make sure he was safe. She had to know before she could sit below.

Finally, she could see the upper deck ahead of her and just as she'd thought, Zayn was there, clutching the steering wheel and roaring orders to the men. At least, she assumed that was what he was doing. She couldn't decipher a word he said above the pounding waves and rain.

She climbed the stairs and clutched the railing.

"Zayn!" she screamed.

He saw her and moved over to her.

"What the bloody hell are you doing here?" he bellowed. "Get to your quarters! I can't keep you safe up here! Go! Now!"

She gripped his arm for a moment and looked at him. The storm terrified her and what scared her more somehow was the idea that she would be somewhat safe below and he would be in the middle of the danger here. And what if something happened to him?

"I'm sorry!" she cried, clasping his arm tightly. "I'm so sorry!"

"Now's not the time, Kalysta, please!" he yelled. "It's okay! Just go!"

He helped her to the stairs and she did her best to return to the lower decks. It was slow going as got off the stairs and even then she continued glancing about, trying to catch a glimpse of Mahir. If he went overboard because he'd been looking after her, then she would never forgive herself.

She was facing the opposite direction when the wave swept over her, drug her past the railing and dropped her into the turbulent waters.


	64. Silent Forgiveness

Zayn's POV

A nightmare he didn't remember having came true before his eyes. He watched as the surge pulled her from the deck, but he was in motion only a moment later.

"Louis, take the wheel!" he screamed, grabbing a long rope from the deck as he ran to the side. He tied one end around his waist and tied the other to the railing, knotting it securely. And without a moment's hesitation, he dove out into the water.

The cold of the sea stole his breath, so he was puffing when his head broke the surface once more. He looked about him, searching for any glimpse of her. It was too much to hope that she was both conscious and capable of swimming. Did they teach Princesses to swim in Elysium?

He couldn't see anything but the waves, illuminated by flashes of lightning, so he submerged, keeping his eyes open for any sign of her. He had to find her. There was no other option. It didn't bear dwelling on what would happen if he didn't. The water was less violent beneath the surface. He caught a glimpse of something ahead and swam toward it, but the necessity of air stopped his momentum so he surfaced to catch his breath. Even being in shape, this entire process was exhausting him. It didn't matter. He caught his breath and dove again.

There she was, just beneath the waves. She was unconscious, for her body was limp and she moved with the currents.

He was diving deeper, reaching for her, when he was stopped abruptly by the rope around his middle. She was probably 20 feet away, but with the rope keeping him there she might as well have been all the way across the sea.

It was time for a risk.

He untied the rope from his middle, surfaced for air, and then dove to get her.

He almost sighed when he grabbed her arm, thankful he could reach her at all. Then he turned about, looking to reach the rope again. It had drifted in the currents a ways away. He was desperate to reach it, but knew he needed to get her head above the water as soon as possible. She had most definitely already inhaled water and preventing more was imperative.

The going was tough since she was essentially dead weight, but he reached the surface and did his best to keep her head up. But there was no way to find the rope unless he was submerged. He swam toward the boat a bit, dropped again, spotted the rope, and swam a bit farther. When he looked again they were close, so he dove, dragging her with him and finally grabbed the rope once more.

He kicked back to the surface. Already he was scared because she'd been in the water for so long, but he wouldn't give up. He kept them afloat and laboriously wrapped the rope around both of them.

"Louis!" he screamed, waving an arm toward the ship. "Pull us in!" There was no guarantee that they could hear him, but he hoped they would at least see him.

The rope pulled taut and cinched tighter around them as whoever was aboard hauled them back toward the boat. Zayn just hoped they would make it in time to save her.

Kalysta's POV

Darkness. Pain.

"No, no, no, no, Kalysta, you must wake up."

The words bit into the haze that surrounded her, dragging her back to a point where the pain was almost obliterating.

She stirred, feeling a weight on her chest.

A moment later, she rolled over, coughing and spewing a fiery liquid from her lungs. The enormity of the pain was almost indescribable. She felt as if her chest and throat had been seared by a hot iron. She sat up in an attempt to ease the pressure on her lungs. Breathing was a feat and she had to struggle past the agony to force herself to draw air in.

Exhausted, she collapsed backward, not able to support herself any longer.

A set of arms caught her before she hit the deck. Her head lolled, unable to establish any support.

Feathery light fingertips traced along her arms and legs as whoever it was checked her for other wounds. It wasn't until the soft lips touched her forehead that she realized Zayn was the one who had collected her in his arms. Had he been the one to save her from the violent surge of the waves?

"Oh, gods, I thought I had lost you," he whispered against her forehead.

Before she could track the movement, he had picked her up and carried her off the deck, finally escaping the storm that continued to rage. He placed her on a hard surface, she knew not where. Her entire sense of equilibrium and direction was lost.

"I must remove the clothes you are wearing, Kalysta," Zayn whispered. "You're freezing cold, the wet clothing is removing any warmth you create, and you probably have taken ill already."

Kalysta could barely nod her head as the shivers wracked her body.

"Are you able to do it yourself?" Zayn asked, his last attempt to preserve her dignity.

She gave a hoarse cry and shook her head in despair.

"Okay, it's fine, it's fine; I'll help," Zayn whispered quickly.

He got to work immediately, removing her boots. For a second, he stepped away to grab a towel. Next, he removed her trousers and finally her jacket and shirt.

"Kalysta, I-" he stuttered, "I have to remove your undergarments."

She simply shivered, unable to work up the energy to respond. As the last piece of clothing was removed from her body, Kalysta was too agonized to care. Her lungs were raw, her throat burned, and she felt as if every part of her body had been laid on ice for an age.

Working more quickly, Zayn took the dry rag and began chaffing it against the skin of her legs, feet, arms and hands, drying her and creating friction for warmth at the same time. Eventually, he moved to her stomach and chest, no longer hesitating in his rush to prevent hypothermia.

"I'm so sorry, love," he said as she hissed in pain. She didn't seem to be able to voice anything but animalistic noises. Even those tore into her throat further.

Zayn grabbed another dry rag and wrapped it around her.

"You need more body heat," he whispered, more to himself than her. He sighed and began removing his own soaked clothing as well. He pulled a pair of clean trousers out of a drawer and pulled them on before he carried her over to the bed and climbed under the covers with her.

"Come here," he whispered, pulling her against him. "I'll keep you warm."

The minute her body touched his, she groaned, whether in pain or relief, she couldn't tell. His body heat was like a fire, both welcomed and painful after the frigid water she'd been rescued from.

"Does that hurt?" he asked, moving to put some space between them.

She shook her head and whimpered, wrapping her arms around him to pull him closer.

"Ah, a good kind of pain?" he guessed.

She nodded and curled into him more, pressing her cold cheek against his chest. Shivers continued to assail her as she tried to relax her taut muscles.

"You're okay now," he whispered. "You're safe. I'm not going to let anything happen to you."

"Sh-sh-sh," she said, trying to quiet him. She wouldn't allow him to make promises he couldn't keep, but her command came out staccato because of her shivers. He hummed quietly in her ear in what was obviously an attempt to calm her further. It worked, because as his warmth seeped into her she began to relax and realize the position they were in... so close and barely a cloth between them.

She eased herself a little closer, slowly slipping a leg up to brush against his before intertwining them. The added warmth of being wrapped in him made her sigh.

"Kalysta," he whispered hoarsely, "what are you doing?"

She simply shook her head, moved away from his chest, and looked him in the eye. His pupils had widened slightly and he licked his lips quickly, his tongue darting out. She continued to look at him. She had forgiven him and she wanted him to know that, but she couldn't talk properly.

"I-I," he stuttered.

She looked up at him with all the pleading she could muster, begging him to close the distance between them.

Painfully slow, he leaned his head forward and pressed his lips to hers. He tasted salty from the sea, but his lips were warm and ensnaring. It was like the moment she'd first seen him, but more encompassing, as if this time, this moment, was all that mattered. She could tell he was holding back, but she was grateful. She already felt like she was swimming in currents she couldn't control, currents of desire, despair, confusion, and need. All of them battled to pull her under. The movement of his lips was slow, gentle, his moustache and beard brushing against her. She reached a hand up to place it on his chin, and breathed in more deeply.

Their kiss continued for a moment before Zayn pulled away.

"I thought I had lost you," he whispered, placing his lips near her ear. The anguish in his voice was evident and the emotion behind that scared and excited her altogether. Her only response was to tighten her arms around him further. He did the same and began humming once more, lolling her into a sense of comfort that led her to close her eyes and succumb to the exhaustion plaguing her.


	65. Worth It All

She awoke to the feeling of pain first. Everything was sore, everything ached. She moaned as she moved, then comprehended that she was disturbing someone else's repose as well.

Zayn had fallen asleep with her once more. She could look at him now unencumbered. He appeared dreadfully vulnerable while he slept. His soft lips were plumped a bit from the way his face was set against the pillow, his expression was calm and free of worry, and his breaths in and out were accompanied by the littlest of noises.

How she wished they could stay like this. The idea of being with this man gave her so much joy and calmed her simultaneously. She didn't want to return to Elysium, not really. There were so many problems that faced her there. The selfish part of her wanted to run away, leave with her lover, and go someplace where they wouldn't be forced to relinquish this final elation. What atrocity of fate had determined that they would forever suffer so that others could live?

She reached up, slowly, carefully and cupped his face in her hand, running her thumb along his cheek. He sighed in his sleep and drifted fingers down her back in response, seeming to revel in the physical contact. She stared at him a bit longer before sleep beckoned her again.

\--- --- --- --- ---

"Kalysta." The voice was a gentle whisper. "Kalysta, how are you?"

Opening her eyes hurt a bit as the light coming through the portal was intensely bright.

A hand moved up, blocking the light from hitting her eyes so directly and it was then that she saw Zayn, still lying next to her, his face furrowed in concern.

"How do you feel?" he asked next. "Can you speak?"

She opened her mouth, tried to voice an answer, but ended up simply making a mixture of incomprehensible syllables as her throat failed to cooperate. The failure hit her hard and she groaned in defeat. Breathing still hurt, but less than it had the night before. Had the salt water really caused that much damage?

"That's alright, darling," he assured her, brushing his knuckles against her cheek. "Don't push anything. Can you nod?"

She did, quite emphatically. There had to be a better way to communicate, but she couldn't think of one. Her mind was still befuddled.

"Very well. Do you hurt still?"

She nodded.

"Where?"

She groaned and shook her head.

"Everywhere?"

She nodded again, surprised he was able to decipher such a vague complaint.

"You'll stay in bed, then," he supplied. He sat up, but she whined. "What's wrong?" His face was confused.

She pulled on his shoulder until he laid back down next to her. He still looked bewildered, so she shifted forward and kissed him softly. Her anger had lasted a couple of days, but it wasn't worth it. What was done was done and she wanted to spend the remainder of their time together like this. She had no time or energy for anger at the moment.

He responded by sliding an arm around her again and pulling her toward him until she was flush against his body. His lips were gentle, as if he were continuing to apologize for what had happened. She appreciated the gesture since she was still in so much pain, but he was almost hesitant in his movements.

"I'm so incredibly glad you're safe," he whispered. "I never could have imagined the pain it would cause me when you went over the side. It-it scares me how much it affects me." He held her closely and breathed a sigh.

She stayed silent, hoping he wouldn't continue this train of thought. There was no way she could hear this as a one-way conversation that she couldn't respond to. She was scared too, of course. Her own dread, at the possibility he wasn't safe during the storm, had been crippling. What would this mean for them? Their lives were already spoken for. It was a repeat of the thoughts she'd been mulling over for the past few weeks. Any emotions they felt now would cause them more pain later, pain as they were forced to be with other people, pain as they would have to continue their lives as if these times hadn't happened.

But it was worth it, she'd decided. It was worth it to have this happiness now and she wouldn't take it for granted. She couldn't let him unhinge himself over it.

So she held him closer, clutched herself as tightly to him as possible.

"The storm is over," Zayn said next. "We'll stay anchored here until you're better. I don't want to invite the mal on you as well as your recovery from the water. You need to tell me if you feel anything change." His voice grew more serious now. "You almost drowned and the day after such an experience can be almost as dangerous. Some water could have gotten stuck in your lungs and lead to a bad illness. I don't want to take chances of traveling when you're in such a dangerous position."

Kalysta nodded and remained still.

"Are you hungry?" he whispered.

She shrugged.

"You need to get your strength back," came his admonishment. "I'll get you some food and plenty of water."

He eased out of her hold and stood from the bed, shrugging into a shirt before leaving.

It was then that she noticed where she was. He had brought her to his own quarters apparently. She was burrowed in his blankets and sleeping in his bed. It was a disgruntling thought that she would end up here like this, outside of the normal means. And helpless as a babe too.

When she tried to sit, she gave up quickly. Not only did she feel weak and pathetic, but the pain in her chest made moving difficult. She sincerely hoped she wouldn't catch the lung sickness of which Zayn had spoken. She'd heard of sailors dying from such things.

She resigned herself to laying down for a bit at least. There was always time to try sitting again later.

Zayn returned a bit later. "I brought gentle foods for you," he said, closing the door behind him. "Soft bread, soft cheese, some beef broth, and plenty of water."

He sat on the edge of the bed closest to her and put the tray on the table next to it.

"Let's get you sat up so you can drink properly."

She shook her head quickly, worried about the pain she'd just endured a moment before.

"I don't want to put water down your throat while you're lying like that." Zayn's voice was firm. "There's more chance of it going into your lungs again. I'll help you to sit, don't worry."

She worried anyway.

He reached over her, placing one arm under her shoulder and the other behind her head and neck. Thus supported, he lifted her up gently. It hurt a bit, but not nearly as much as when she'd tried to accomplish the same feat herself. His arm reached down and under her legs before he scooted her up the bed to lean against the headboard. Though it wouldn't have mattered so much, he was sure to keep her covered by the blanket.

"There, that wasn't so bad was it?" he posited.

She shook her head and sighed, stroking a hand over his face in thanks. He took the hand and kissed it before going back to the tray on the bedside table.

"Water first, I think," he mused. "Your throat has to be raw from the sea water and there's been no way to get you any before now."

He reached into his pocket and pulled out his own flask, unscrewing the cap, and bringing it to her lips.

She didn't realize how thirsty she was until the water touched her tongue. Her first instinct was to take big gulps, but the pain in her throat prevented that.

After that, Zayn alternated between offering her sips of water or broth and small morsels of the bread and cheese. She couldn't eat much, but it felt good to have something in her stomach. He made sure she finished the water and broth, but didn't force it with the food.

Somehow the task of eating was exhausting and her eyelids began to droop.

"Have you had enough?" Zayn asked quietly.

She nodded.

"Would you like to rest some more?"

She nodded again.

He repositioned her so she was lying, covered in the blankets.

She would have welcomed being clothed, but didn't want to chance it with how much moving hurt. The exertion on her lungs was particularly excruciating.

Zayn stood with the leftover food, preparing to leave the room, but she made a noise to get his attention.

"What's wrong?" he asked.

She patted the bed beside her.

"You want me to stay?"

Once more, she nodded.

He smiled softly, set the food down again, and slipped between the covers to join her.

"If the circumstances were different I would tease you for inviting me to bed whilst you were naked," he whispered as he settled in, pulling her close. "But, of course, I won't do that now."

She snorted and smacked him gently in the arm.

He chuckled and then was silent for a moment.

She was settling in when he began singing. It was quiet, almost a breath, but it was beautiful. His voice lilted over the sea ballad and if she hadn't been so drained she would have stayed awake to listen further.


	66. Drastic Change

Zayn's POV

As Kalysta breathed quietly in her sleep beside him, Zayn let his voice fade out. She needed sleep and he would let her have it despite his overbearing need to ensure she was alright. He would send Aram to check on her health again later. They couldn't be too careful when it came to near-drowning, and Zayn was particularly loathe to take chances where Kalysta was concerned.

He slipped away from her, getting off the bed and putting fresh clothing on. She was usually a light sleeper so he was careful; disturbing her now would just be cruel. He took a last look at her sleeping form and left.

"How's the Princess with the death wish?" Mahir asked once Zayn had stepped outside of his cabin.

"She's resting still," Zayn answered, sighing. "No sign of any illness yet, but her lungs and voice are still raw. She can't talk; a bit of a blessing." His joke fell flat because of the worry in his voice.

"Funny enough, I grew accustomed to her attitude." Mahir sounded almost wistful.

Zayn would have been suspicious that Mahir had developed feelings for her, except for the fact that he knew the man preferred other men over women. He simply nodded and moved away, heading for the top deck. More work needed doing.

Louis was standing at the helm, talking to the individual men as they approached with their reports of the damages.

He'd been warned. Aram had warned Zayn before they left that there was a storm coming. Zayn, in his drive to placate Kalysta, had insisted they sail anyway. He'd foolishly thought he could handle it with ease; and he'd nearly lost Kalysta. It was good that his men were battle and storm-hardened or he likely would have lost one of them as well.

If he weren't so worried over his despair at almost losing Kalysta, then he would have fretted more over his desperate attempt to please her. Everything involving her was worrisome. From the way she looked at him to the peace he basked in when around her, the situation was distressing. The only time he could consider it was when he was away from her. Otherwise, he was trapped in the net she'd woven for him specifically. The irksome Princess had no idea of her effect either. He couldn't decide which would be worse, informing her or pining in silence.

"Captain," came Louis' greeting. "How fares Princess Kalysta? That pesky Royal had me worried."

"She's better than I could have hoped." Zayn's attempt at nonchalance failed, just as his attempt at humor had fallen short. "Time will reveal the extent of any problems."

"The damages to the ship are less that would be expected," Louis offered. "We were particularly fortunate that we got the main sails down before the winds hit fully. One of the masts has weakened and shows signs of splitting. I'd like to get some repairs done before we set sail again."

"Good idea." Zayn breathed a sigh of relief. So much more could have gone wrong for his foolishness. "I would add that staying close to shore would be best in the case that the Princess' condition deteriorates."

"Agree," Louis chimed in.

Zayn stayed on deck as the rest of the damage summaries were brought in. His poor ship! She'd been the only woman he could rely on and he'd endangered her; yet another example of how drastically he had changed for the Princess.

Kalysta's POV

"Kalysta, wake up." Zayn's voice was gentle, but annoyed her anyway. "You need to drink more and move around some. You'll definitely get sick if you leave any fluid to settle in one spot of your lungs."

She gave a low growl of frustration at her disturbed rest and quieted when the noise was hurt in its production. When she opened her eyes, Zayn was giving her an expression of pity.

"Would that I could take your pain," he murmured quietly.

She reached over to pat his cheek, but ended up running her fingers against the fullness of his beard.

He leaned into her caress before taking her hand. "You need to get up. It's going to hurt, but I'm here to help." He knelt on the bed next to her, placed her arms around his neck, and lifted carefully.

The pain was bearable, but definitely present. Zayn's support alleviated some of what would cause further pain, and together they were able to get her into a sitting position with her feet dangling over the edge of the bed. All her muscles ached, but she had to acknowledge that sitting felt good. It also produced the urge to cough.

When she did, it felt like her lungs had knives in them. And once she'd started coughing, she couldn't stop. It was disgusting as the force of air expelled a substance from within her. Over and over she coughed.

At a brief moment of respite, Zayn held up a bowl and ordered, "Spit here."

She did and was further disgusted with herself. The putrid sense of spewing it in front of him compounded her revulsion. She clutched his arm in thanks, unable to express it with words.

Another bout of coughing sprung on her and her chest heaved in an attempt to get rid of the fluid in her lungs and pull in more air at the same time. The result left her leaning forward with a spluttering fit and a sheer panic at the feeling that she'd never get a proper breath again.

This continued for a moment before Zayn slapped her back forcefully. She'd have been angry except that this action dislodged the offending substance from her airway. He rubbed her back as she spat into the bowl and drew a clean breath finally.

"There, that's better," he said soothingly. "Let's try a bit of water."

He brought the open canteen to her lips, but she gently took it from him, determined to do something for herself.

"Small sips," he cautioned immediately.

She obeyed and was thankful for the cool liquid as it soothed her throat. Water had never tasted so good to her before. It did nothing for the searing pain in her lungs, but it would have to be enough.

"Easy," Zayn chuckled. "Leave some for the rest of us."

A joke, even a poor one, eased some more of the tension in her body. She stopped drinking and handed the canteen back to him, smiling at him in thanks. She then moved to lie back down.

"That cough looked tiring," he allowed, moving to help her. "As long as we get you up fairly often, you shouldn't get any worse. Try sleeping on your side instead of your back this time."

She nodded and sighed into the pillow. She didn't wait for him to move toward leaving; she patted the bed beside her.

Wordlessly, he climbed in beside her and held her close to his chest.

This time, it was the sound of his heart that lulled her.


	67. Buckets and More Suspicions

Zayn woke her regularly over the next few days, making sure she had moved positions and giving her water.

The most demeaning moments were when she needed to relieve herself. She couldn't very well go all the way to the hull of the ship where the head was, so she was forced to squat over a bucket, assisted by Zayn. He'd brought her a clean set of clothing, but she was still weak as a babe and needed help moving around. She was getting stronger, albeit at an excruciatingly slow pace.

Her voice returned just as slowly. As it was, her tone was rough and she feared it would never recover the timbre she was used to hearing in her own head. To her ear, she sounded like someone who had been smoking most of their life.

Now as Zayn came in, carrying her food and bucket, she decided she'd had enough.

"How are you feeling this morning?" he asked, setting the bucket down by the door and carrying the food over to the bed.

"I-I need to relieve myself," she admitted. No matter how many times he'd helped her in this exact situation, she could never get over the embarrassment. Today was going to be different, though. Today she would not be using the bucket.

"Why don't you eat first?" he suggested. "We'll save the more unwholesome activities for last."

"I'd like to go to the head," she replied stubbornly.

"Kalysta, no," he sighed. "You're still too weak."

"I want to try." She set her jaw and pinched her eyebrows, hoping he'd see that she meant business. There was no way she would give up before trying. Today she was feeling extremely refreshed. "My food can be a reward for getting there and back."

"I'm not sure it's a good idea." His voice was cautious. He joined her, sitting on the bed.

"Please?" she begged. Her dignity was entirely gone. "If I spend another day in this cabin I'm going to lose my mind."

He sighed again, looking resigned. "We can try, alright?" he clarified. "If I see that it's too much strain on you then it is back to here and you'll use the bucket."

"Yes, master," she agreed, rolling her eyes. "I'd think you'd be eager to have me up and about so you don't have to help me on the bucket."

"I want you to make a full recovery." Now his voice was earnest. "Whatever that takes, I'm willing to do. I've seen people bed-ridden from being in the water that long. You'll recover at your own pace and I don't want to push that."

"I do, however." Kalysta was adamant. She would go on deck today, and use a normal privy for herself.

"Very well," he acquiesced, standing. He set the bag on the bed and readied himself. "I want you to put your arms around my neck," he instructed, crouching. "I'll lift you up and then shift my support to start walking, alright?"

She nodded, doing as he said. When she had locked arms around his neck, he stood carefully, his hands gripping her waist.

"Are you alright?" he breathed when they reached a full stance.

"Yes," she responded confidently. She was directly facing him so she pressed a kiss to his cheek in thanks. "I'm doing quite well and I fancy a walk on the deck."

He made a small grumbling noise, but moved so that one of his arms was around her waist and the other held one of hers behind his neck. They were facing the same way so he half-led, half-carried her to the door. "Get the handle?" he asked.

She obliged, and they stepped out onto the deck into the sunshine. For a moment the brightness blinded her, and when she recovered it was to see all the men crowding toward her.

"Well, well, well, it seems you've finally decided to stop moping around and pitch in, eh?" It was Louis who spoke up. He took her other arm under his, allowing Zayn to adjust his stance and support her the same way on the other side. "It's good to see you up and about, Princess," he continued in a softer voice.

"Thank you, Louis."

"Next time you're feeling like scaring us all into an early grave, try a less life-threatening way." This was from Mahir, which reminded her how worried she'd been for his safety that night.

"I'm glad you're safe, Mahir. I worried that the wave which knocked me down the ladder had taken you overboard." She felt a little guilty for not thinking of him sooner after she'd woken up.

"Apparently, the goddess didn't want me in her grasp quite yet. You were on deck against orders, so she made a try for you. It's a good thing the Captain doesn't mind crossing her."

"I'm simply glad I worried for nothing," Kalysta answered.

Mahir smiled and the other men moved as Louis and Zayn helped her along.

"Where are we headed?" Louis asked.

"The head."

"Bucket not working so well?"

Louis clearly meant it as a joke, but Kalysta wasn't going to deal with that.

"Mention it again and I am going to tell Beatrice just how many women you entertain in other countries," she snarled.

"There aren't that many!" he protested.

"I know of at least three maids in Elysium alone who you've entertained and then left the next morning; need I go on?"

"I see your point," he responded, uncomfortable. "I won't broach the subject again."

"Many thanks."

"Why do you pick such vicious women, Captain?" he complained to Zayn quietly.

"Masochism, I suppose," Zayn mused.

They reached the ladder to the head. This was going to be the difficult part by her reckoning.

"I'll go below," Zayn suggested, "and you'll lower her to me."

"I don't have the upper body strength to keep myself upright if you're only supporting my legs, Zayn." She didn't like this idea at all.

"Do you trust me?"

"Yes," she breathed.

"Very well."

Zayn released her and climbed down the ladder, allowing Louis to support her fully. The process went better than she expected. Louis lowered her and Zayn caught her, one arm beneath her legs and the other on her back, as a man carried his bride over the threshold.

She scolded herself mentally for making such a connection.

"I'll take it from here," Zayn called to Louis.

"You can set me down now." She didn't necessarily mind being held in his arms, but they were trying to keep their whatever-this-was a secret.

"Still angry with me?" he asked.

"No."

"Then I think you're fine where you are."

He leaned back a bit, counter-balancing to adjust for her weight, and moved down to the wooden platform with holes that served as the facilities aboard the ship. When he'd set her down on her feet, she motioned him away.

"I'm not leaving when you're this weak." He sounded stern.

"I don't want you around me for this."

"What more could I see that I haven't witnessed over the past few days?"

"Please, Zayn, please?" Her voice broke. "My dignity is already gone. At least let me pretend there is still some to have."

"You are not lessened in my sight for any of this," he answered, sounding pained.

"Please?" No matter what he said, she was horrified to have him around. It was the lowest of lows for her.

He sighed for probably the hundredth time just that morning. "Call before you move to leave, yes?"

"I will," she promised.

He kissed her on the cheek quickly and left her leaning against the wall for support before climbing the ladder.

As far as a privy went, it wasn't terrible, especially considering it was used by sailors almost exclusively. It was still grungy, though, and Kalysta was loathe to seat herself on it.

She suffered through, and stood from it as quickly as she could.

Though it took a great deal of effort, she pulled up her pants and moved to the ladder all on her own. Her muscles took longer to respond to her wishes than she would have liked. Altogether it was irritating.

When she reached the ladder, she heard Zayn swear from above.

"I thought you said you would call for me!" he cried.

"Oh, Zayn!" she said loudly. "I'm ready to come up now."

"Very funny. Stay there." He moved down the ladder quickly to join her. "You could have fallen and gotten hurt," he lectured.

"I'm terribly sorry," she replied unconvincingly.

"Yes, I'm sure you are. Let's go."

He assisted her as she stepped up each rung of the ladder, slowly and carefully. When she neared the top, Louis and Mahir were in position to help. They gripped under her arms and hauled her the rest of the way up.

"Thank you, men," she replied.

"Ma'am," another crewmember voiced, a man she didn't recognize. "Here is some broth the cook just made. Would you like it?" He held a tin out to her.

"Thank you, sir," she replied, taking it in her left hand. "That's most kind of you."

"My name's Jabir, Princess, and you're most welcome." He bowed incorrectly, but lowly, and backed away.

Zayn took the broth from her and supported her walk back to his cabin.

Louis left them at the door and when Zayn led her to the bed she fairly collapsed onto it. He set the broth on the table.

"I'm exhausted," she groaned.

"What did I tell you?" he replied worriedly. "You pushed yourself too much."

"Oh come off it," she huffed. "I'll be just fine."

"Drink some and finish your food and then you're resting for a while."

She consented, shifting around a bit as her muscles complained at her continued movement. He helped her to sit next to him and he handed her bites of food since she refused to let him feed her again. It had come time that she would be doing things for herself from now on.

When she'd finished, he moved her under the covers and fluffed the drab pillow for her.

"You're not leaving yet," she commanded. "Stay for a while. Please?"

He didn't answer, but simply moved to the other side of the bed to join her.

When he'd curled in close to her she moved her head up to kiss him. His responding kiss was not nearly as strong as she would have liked. He was still treating her like a breakable china doll.

She reached a hand up to grip his hair and kissed him harder, hoping he would respond in kind. To her surprise, he did. His lips were strong and sure against hers. Offsetting that, his palm ran up and down the side of her arm gently, a caress meant to ease her.

He pulled away a moment later. "Go to sleep."

"Thank you," she responded.

"For what?"

"Taking care of me like this," she whispered.

"It's the least I can do to apologize for what I've done."

"I don't want to talk about that anymore," she asserted. "It's over and done with and I've forgiven you."

"Because I almost died? Because you almost died?"

"No, that's not it at all. I forgave you because I realized that I didn't want to spend our remaining time together being angry at you." She sighed. "I'm not saying what you did was right, but we all make mistakes. I'll simply ask that you don't keep something like that from me in the future."

"And I readily agree. That was difficult enough. I can't imagine keeping another secret from you." He shuddered.

"What do you know of Thomas?" she asked.

"Nothing important that I haven't told you," he responded quickly, "of that I can promise you. There might be little personal details that haven't come to me yet, but I doubt they're of consequence anyway. Why?"

"I simply wondered if you saw what I saw in that meeting."

"What?"

"Thomas almost flinched when I brought up the subject of same gender preference and execution," she answered. "I know I didn't imagine it. He looked hurt and afraid. He's hiding something. Do you know of anything that would indicate why he would react that way?"

Zayn thought for a moment, his brow furrowed in concentration. "Something does come to mind," he admitted. "Several years ago, there was a well-publicized trial in which an advisor of Thomas' was tried for being with a man. It was thought that a jealous rival had falsely accused him, but he was convicted anyway. Before he could be executed, however, the man escaped and fled the country. No one is sure where he ended up. I came to visit around that time and Thomas was completely out of sorts, more than he should have been for the disobedience or disappearance of an advisor."

"Could... could Thomas, perhaps..." Kalysta didn't want to say it out loud.

"I don't want to jump to conclusions, but with what you've pointed out... it's possible," Zayn said. "He has never married, which is rare for a ruler of his age. Most are rushed to produce an heir and don't mess about. It's suspicious, at least. I'll give you that."

He was silent and Kalysta was starting to feel the efforts of the morning catch up with her. She looked forward to the day when a trip to the head didn't exhaust her so thoroughly.


	68. Not So Much an Ember, But a Flame

Miraculously, the next day was even better. They set sail two days after her first trip back to the head and the remainder of the trip back to Elysium was mostly uneventful. To prevent gossip, Kalysta moved back to her bunk in the hull of the ship. The mal de mer didn't strike her nearly as badly as before, was barely noticeable, in fact. She was immensely grateful for this, as it meant she was able to move about the ship more freely, learn some of the ship's functions, and be out in the sun a bit following her bout of illness.

The sailor in the crow's-nest spotted Westtown around midday, but they stayed farther out at sea.

"Louis will escort you back to your Royal City Haven in the first hour of the morning," Zayn explained to her. "I want you to wait for the cover of darkness before you pass Westtown. The fewer people that see you this time around will help immensely."

She was almost completely back to full health so she stayed on the top deck with Zayn as he arranged everything. The men were a bit frustrated that they couldn't go ashore on leave, but Zayn was being appropriately cautious. If there were Bradians in town in conjunction with her return it would make her father and everyone else leery at least.

Darkness fell, but Kalysta was too anxious to sleep for the few hours she would get before she left with Louis. She was scared for the future. In the next few days she would face Delia, her father, and all her people. Planning would start and she would have to marry Niall. The resistance had failed and she would be on her own saving Elysium.

She would be apart from Zayn as well. Of necessity, their relationship would have to return to the professional indifference and feigned dislike that had existed before this unsuccessful enterprise. She hated it.

There had always been a termination date for their brief tryst, but as that date arrived so abruptly she wished she could rebel. These were the same thoughts she'd been entertaining for some time, but they could only remain wistful dreams. So many people relied on her. And where would the two of them go if they did rebel?

She shook her head, trying to remove the pointless and dismal thoughts from her mind. There was no reason to torture herself further. It simply wasn't meant to be.

"Care for some company?"

Zayn's voice startled her from her melancholy and circular reasoning.

"I suppose," she sighed, looking over at him as he settled in to sit next to her.

"I volunteered for the night watch and you're not sleeping either, so I figure we could..." He faded out.

"Figure we could what?"

"I'm not sure," he confessed, sounding confused and resigned concurrently. He took a swig from a see-through, brown-tinged bottle.

"Are you really drinking?" she scolded. "You're supposed to be on watch."

"Ach, it's not that bad." He quickly dismissed her chiding. "It's the sort of night where spirits are needed." He took another swig and stared out into the darkness.

She kept her gaze on him, memorizing this peaceful, relaxed face because she probably wouldn't get to see it again. "And what kind of night would that be?" She wanted him to talk more so she could commit to memory the way his voice lilted over words in such a strange manner and the way his lips moved.

"It's eating at you too, don't pretend it's not," he replied, still avoiding her gaze. "Women overthink everything. It's the end of a rather... pleasant time for us and I find myself morose at its passing." This was punctuated by another swig.

"I too was thinking about it," she replied. "And I am in the same predicament as you profess yourself to be in, loathe to see a happiness leave."

He finally turned to look at her, holding out the bottle as well. "Care for a little liquid comfort?"

She only hesitated a moment before taking the bottle and drinking deeply.

"Careful," he chuckled. "You do need to be going to shore some time tonight."

She didn't answer, but took another drink.

"Easy." He was grumbling now as he took the bottle back. "That's got to last me the night."

"You have a plethora of it in the hold, I'm sure," she scoffed. "Don't feed me that line."

They sat in silence for a while and Kalysta could feel the caustic sailor rum warming her limbs and fuzzing her mind. She'd never been able to handle her liquor well, but she didn't care at the moment. This was a night of depressing thoughts and she needed a distraction from what she couldn't have: the man sitting next to her.

"What will you do when you return?" he asked quietly.

"I'll do my best to fix what my father has done. I'll have someone send for you in Cheshire, where I'm hoping you'll go after this so that we can finish negotiations. We'll arrange to finalize my marriage to your brother. I'll do what I must, even if it kills me. I'll figure out another way to keep Elysium out of Murdoch's grasp. I will."

"I have no doubt of that." He was trying to make her feel better clearly.

Silence settled in again. Kalysta took the bottle from him and despite his earlier protests he relinquished it readily. They passed it back and forth for a bit longer.

"I'm not ready to return," she confessed. "I'm frightened of what is to come."

"What frightens you?"

"Facing my father, having to take everything upon myself, and..." She stopped herself, not drunk enough to confess it all.

She should have known he wouldn't let that go, though.

"And?" He moved closer and nudged her shoulder with his.

"I don't have to tell you," she said petulantly.

"No, you certainly don't," he allowed, "but at least you know that I'm not going to tell anyone. What's got you afraid, Kalysta?"

Maybe she was drunk enough, or perhaps it was the way her name sounded so good coming from his mouth.

"I'm afraid to marry Niall," she whispered, staring down at her lap. "My first time with a man will be with that heinous devil-spawn and that terrifies and disheartens me. I will have to cater to his disgusting person and never know what it's like to be with a man I've chosen."

She looked up at him and his expression was one of pain, anger, and disgust.

"Well, the thoughts I was drinking to avoid seem to be haunting you as well," he confessed. "This line of consideration leads us nowhere, though." He emptied the bottle and tossed it out into the water with a little more force than was necessary.

"It does?"

"Yes, it does." The seriousness in his voice only marred when he belched afterward.

She curled into herself and looked out to sea again. It had been foolish to share that. He was right. It accomplished nothing.

"Of course you would look like that," he complained.

"Like what?"

"So very kissable."

She didn't have time to think before he'd pulled her to him and locked his lips against hers. He was a little more forceful than how he'd treated her in the past, but it fit the situation, desperate and bold. She was able to respond with much more confidence than she would have normally, the rum bolstering her desire for this and burning away any inhibition she might consider. It was reckless, but their time was up and they had both admitted to hating that very fact.

His lips were urgent against hers and she returned the passion, gripping his hair tightly in her fist. In a move completely unlike her, she kneeled and moved a leg over him so she sitting on his legs, wrapping her arms around his neck. He responded by grasping her hip in one hand and wrapping the other in the hair at the base of her neck.

She wanted this. More than her fear of what was to come was the need to make the most of what little time she had left with Zayn. His incredible comfort and profound gentleness over the past few days had solidified the fact that if she could have picked her man, it would have been him. That choice had been stolen from her, but there was one decision she refused to give up.

He wrapped his arms around her waist and pulled her closer to him, allowing her easier access to run her hands over his back and the muscles of his arms. She could never tire of kissing him, but he moved his lips to her neck and it was almost involuntarily when she arched her back to be closer to him.

They couldn't continue this while sitting on the deck. Carefully, she stood, grabbing his hand and pulling him up to join her.

"It's no longer for the wrong reasons," she whispered, gripping the front of his shirt collar and kissing him deeply. "You want this too, I know it."

"My desire is irrelevant," Zayn answered roughly, his breathing heavy.

Once more, the drink played a part in her fearlessness. She reached down and gripped him through his pants, chuckling when his chest hitched and he moved his hips forward. In conjunction with her hold, she kissed him again.

"Are you sure desire doesn't matter?" she whispered in his ear. "It seems to matter at the moment."

His returning kiss was sloppy. "I suppose I could be persuaded to change my mind."

They kissed for a moment longer.

"Up," he ordered. He wrapped his arms under her bottom and she did as ordered, jumping slightly to give him a boost in lifting her.

She locked her legs around his waist and circled her arms about him, kissing his neck as he carried her to his cabin.

\--- --- --- --- --- --- --- ---

He laid her on the bed. "Just so you know, I'm doing this under protest." His voice was half-tease, half-groan.

"I'm sure you are." She moaned as his hands rand down her sides and he sucked gently on her neck.

The clothing felt abrasive when all she wanted against her was his skin. She lifted at the hem of his shirt and he obliged by removing it entirely. Their remaining garments quickly followed, scattering about the floor and bed unceremoniously.

"Gods, how I've missed this," he murmured against the bare skin of her chest as he kissed down her torso. The movement of his mouth stopped to pay homage to one breast, but he continued trailing a hand down her stomach to the juncture of her thighs and body.

As he pressed his fingers in, she gave another moan. She was completely past the embarrassment of making noise at such prompting. Rapture was all she felt.

With his other hand he pulled a n.ípplé between his fingers. While slightly painful, it added to her breathlessness and surging pleasure. He clearly remembered what had worked for her the last time, because there was no experimentation. He moved his fingers exactly where they needed to go in order to drive her crazy.

He brought his lips back to hers and at the same time she felt one of his fingers actually delve into her. This new impression was quite strange, almost painful. It felt fine after a moment, but it had distracted her from the growing energy she'd been feeling. As if he noticed that, he put his mouth back to her breast, nipping gently, and put his thumb against the spot that promptly heightened her pleasure.

The minute he moved that finger within her, though, it distracted her again. She felt him ease another finger in and the pain was quite perceptible, enough to make her suck in a breath quickly.

"I know," he whispered, moving to kiss her neck and just below her ear. "It doesn't feel so nice right now, but it will help with some of the pain... later." He kissed her lips again and moved his fingers, a gentle slide. The more he did this the less it hurt. It wasn't particularly enjoyable, but it didn't hurt anymore.

Eventually, he kissed down her body and put his lips just above where his fingers were still inside her.

"If only we had longer," he lamented softly. "It's all about training your body and I haven't had much time to do that." He was silent again as he returned his lips to the point at the cleft of her body. His mouth created the pull that had her heaving, her hips jolting to be closer.

Once more, he did the same thing, moving his fingers in conjunction with the pull. She understood what he meant, now. As her body grew accustomed to the sensation of his fingers, he was increasing the delicious intensity of his mouth. Her body would begin to associate both actions with pleasure.

He removed his fingers entirely after a little while and instead soothed her slightly irritated flesh with his tongue. He had moved down completely to the other end of the bed, ensconcing himself between her thighs and wrapping his arms around her hips. One hand he brought down to tease her with his thumb and the other squeezed at a breast and nipple. Again, his ability to multi-task astounded her.

The pressure rose in her and soon she couldn't contain the strange moans and pants that emanated from deep inside her. He continued with no signs of halting and she was overcome by the deluge of sensations flooding her. It didn't take long for the energy inside of her to free itself in a powerful delivery. She did nothing to mask her cries, some of which she was sure happened to be his name. Her eyes closed without her permission and her back arched as the throbbing in the pit of her stomach traveled to every extremity, carrying bliss with it.

Zayn wasn't silencing her either. He continued his attentions until she was a listless mess before him. Only then did he move back up to lie next to her. He was on his side, kissing her neck and running soft caresses along her skin.

They were silent for a bit as Kalysta returned her breathing to normal. When she had, Zayn reached down among their discarded clothing and brought up his flask, handing it to her.

"Thirsty?" he asked.

"Oddly enough, yes." She sat up and drank deeply of the water it contained.

"Not odd, really," he replied. "It was all that panting and vocal stress." He put his hands behind his head, looking pleased with himself.

"Drinking alcohol makes you thirsty," Kalysta sniffed, dismissing him in jest and taking another gulp of the water.

"After all that you're going to say it's only the alcohol?"

He took her by surprise, pushing her to lie back and kneeling over her. Taking the flask from her, he drank quickly, put the cap back on and tossed it to the floor.

It was meant to be a dominant move, but since he was so strikingly displayed before her she grabbed him in one hand and slid her grip along the measure of him as she'd seen him do.

He gasped, lurching forward to catch himself on the bedframe.

"Isn't it time you taught me something?" she asked, running her fingers up and down slowly. His responding groan was answer enough.

She pushed his chest and he gladly dropped on the bed next to her. Quickly, she sat up and leaned down to kiss him. He responded eagerly and she feel his chest rising and falling heavily beneath her hands.

"What do I do?" she asked, slightly intimidated now that she was in charge. "What's best for you?"

"Whatever makes you comfortable?" His voice was raw. "You can use your mouth or just your hands; whatever you do is fine with me."

"So kind," she whispered. As intimidated as she was, she wanted to give him something very good in return for his selfless attention to her throughout their time together. Part of her, the selfish rebel, wanted this to be as memorable as possible, too. If she couldn't have him later, then she wanted him to miss her.

Her mind decided, she kissed his lips quickly and moved her lips down his body. Even now, she was fascinated by his tattoos and the shadows cast by his muscles in the dim lantern light. His torso looked even more contrasted now, the muscles stretching and contracting from his heavy breathing.

She kissed lower and reached his heightened manhood. Still entirely unsure of what to do, she placed her lips against the cap of it gently and moved them down the length to the base.

He attempted a groan, but it caught in his throat. His fingers fisted in the sheets and when she finally took him fully into her mouth he swore.

"Bloody great gods, Kalysta," he gasped. "More. Please."

His begging made her immensely self-satisfied and she consented, lowering her mouth farther. It was safe to assume that her teeth wouldn't be welcome in this situation, so she did her best to render them inactive by keeping her jaw wide and her lips tight, a more difficult feat than she'd realized. Lowering her head more, she gagged and pulled away quickly. She looked up at him, discouraged.

"Your hand," he prompted, giving her an easy smile. "Focus your mouth at the end and your hands on the rest."

She gave herself a moment to recover by simply using her hands. He swore when she increased the pace with her hands. It was easy to establish that doing almost anything would work for him, but she tried to figure out which motions achieved the best results.

She put her mouth over him again and did as he'd instructed, using her hands on the rest of him. Her hair kept getting in the way until Zayn assisted her, grabbing the strands and holding them in a fist at the top of her head.

"Sard," he swore for probably the hundredth time. "You're so beautiful like this."

Briefly, she withdrew and dragged her tongue up the thill. Her hands slid over him easier then and based on his reaction it was a good thing. She did the same again, coating him enough so that her hand movements could be quicker. He grew sweatier, his skin glistening, and harder beneath her hands.

When she reached down to cup the orbs below, she knew he wouldn't last much longer. His hips were trembling involuntarily and he was agitated, his legs shifting barely, his hand in her hair tightening and loosening, and the other hand clenching the blankets or running through his already terribly-mussed hair. Altogether, she knew he would be done soon.

Kalysta increased the pace with her hand and increased the pressure with her mouth. He somehow grew more agitated, and suddenly he was pulling on her hair, urging her head upward. She released him from her mouth, but kept moving her hands around him. Just a moment later, his hips drove upward and he spilled onto his stomach and onto her hands.

His relief was evident and he sighed heavily before taking a blanket and wiping both his stomach and her hands clean.

She sighed too and laid down next to him, cuddling in close. A sense of accomplishment filled her. Though it clearly wasn't too difficult, she still felt satisfaction at bringing him the joy they'd discussed. It was a sense of power. And though their time was fleeting, knowing she had brought him some happiness was profoundly comforting.

"Thank you," he whispered, cradling her to him and gently brushing his fingertips down the length of her spine.

"You're entirely welcome, and the same to you." She stayed silent for a moment before broaching the subject.

"I hate to be the bearer of bad news, but we didn't actually do what we discussed."

"I'm quite aware of that," he returned dryly. "All in good time. Let me get my strength back."

She waited, but it wasn't patiently. The rum was starting to wear off and she was getting drowsy. If something didn't happen soon, it never would, and that thought terrified her. She'd be stuck with Niall; that would be it for her.

"Whoa, Kalysta," Zayn breathed, his voice pulling her out of the pit her mind was going into. "What just happened? You're body tensed up like you were struck by lightning. What are you thinking about?"

"Nothing," she said hurriedly, tightening her grip on his waist.

"We both know that's not true. After all that's happened you're still going to try to hide something from me? You saw how that ended up in my case."

"I don't want to marry Niall," she confessed, her voice betraying the depth of her anxiety on the subject. "I thought I could before, but I know I can't. I simply can't, but everyone is relying on me and I'll have to anyway, even though it will kill me inside and I-"

"Shhh," Zayn interrupted. "I know. I know you're scared. Just breathe."

She did as he ordered and it was a not so helpful reminder of why it was going to be so difficult to leave him. He calmed her, so readily, so easily.

"Breathe," he repeated. "Take it one day at a time. Just focus on getting back to Haven and talking to your father. That's all that is important right now." He kissed her forehead and smoothed a hand over her hair. "It's going to be alright. Things will work out." He was once again displaying a poor, but endearing, habit of his, telling her things he didn't actually believe so that she'd feel better.

She turned and kissed him fully on the mouth, cupping his face and then running a hand through his tousled hair. This was something she'd never forget, the man who knew her so well in such a short time, who drove her absolutely insane on a regular basis, and who treated her better than most of the people she'd known her whole life. The gods were terrible for dangling him in front of her and then removing him so quickly.

He kissed her harder and rolled them a bit so he was over her. She couldn't get enough of him so she pulled him tighter, wrapped a leg over his and dragged her fingernails down the taut muscles of his back. His response was a low moan in the back of his throat as he grew hard against her leg once more.

"I take it you've adequately recovered your strength?" she teased, reaching between them to take him into her hand.

He pressed down with his hips in time with the strokes of her hand and moved his lips to her neck. "We can stop anytime," he whispered. "We'll only do it as long as you're comfortable with it. If it hurts too badly, I need you to say something. Understand?" He met her eyes for the last word, his gaze burrowing into hers.

"Yes, of course," she replied.

He backed away for a second and pressed kisses down her body. "This will go better if you're enjoying yourself first."

He promptly set her to aching again with his mouth and fingers before moving back up her body and looking her in the eye. "We can stop at any time," he reminded her.

She nodded.

He kissed her deeply then, distracting her some as he lifted one of her legs up to wrap around his waist. This brought them closer together and elevated her anxiety. She tried to keep herself distracted with his lips as he pressed forward into her, but the pain was intense enough that she pulled away from his mouth, gasping. He hadn't even entered her fully.

"Are you alright, Kalysta?" he asked, keeping extremely still.

"I'll be fine, keep going." She steeled herself for the pain as he slid his hips forward and entered her fully.

He pulled back and made the same motion again, slightly faster.

"Hold on," she moaned in pain.

"Is it too much?" His concern was instantaneous. "Tell me, Kalysta, do you want to stop?"

"No." Her voice came out sharp. "Don't talk, just... stay still. Give me time to adjust."

He did precisely that, staying still within her and keeping silent.

Kalysta withdrew into herself for a second.

Sure, it hurt, but she'd had more intense pain from menstrual cramping. She wanted to master this, so she tried to force herself to relax, knowing it was going to hurt worse if she was incredibly tense. Expecting pain was probably the worst thing since it had made her rigid in the first place.

She did her best to relax and then opened her eyes to look at him.

He was gazing down at her, his scrutiny of her face intense as he searched for any sign that she wished to stop. The light brown of his eyes pulled her in and she tried to relax further.

"Alright," she breathed, "just... slowly."

He nodded and kissed her carefully, easing out of her just as much so. The pain-staking concern he showed was endearing. His slide back in was just as cautious.

There were several more sets of this before the pain went from almost bearable to a background distraction. The sensation wasn't exactly enjoyable at the moment, but it was certainly better than it was. What came to the forefront of her mind now was the awareness of how incredibly close she felt to him in that moment, her body meshed with his until she couldn't tell where one ended and the other started. The way he curled his arms under her shoulders and brought her closer to him was captivating and he stared into her eyes with more adoration than she could comprehend.

"I'm alright," she whispered, kissing him briefly. "I'm fine now. Do what you're there to do."

His face rose in a cheeky grin. "If you insist." He drew back rapidly and slid forward again, watching her face still for discomfort. When he saw none, he slipped a hand down between them to place two fingers right above where their bodies were joined. He was doing his best to make sure she achieved satisfaction from it too, but she knew it wouldn't be possible at this point. She was too tender from the experience, too overcome by everything happening. But that didn't mean he had to coddle her.

"I'm alright, really," she assured him, pulling his hand back up and curling her fingers in his next to her on the bed.

"This isn't working for you?" he asked sadly. She could see an innate struggle in him, warring between the physical desire for his own fulfillment and the urge to cater to her gratification.

"No and that's not something you can fix." Her voice was soft, but she kissed him forcefully. "Just take care of yourself and that's enough for me."

His eyes widened for a moment, but he nodded and buried his face in her neck. Quickly, he increased his pace, letting out a soft moan as he established a rhythm. His head came back up and he kissed her disjointedly. She didn't mind. Watching him get distracted in her was intriguing.

Gently, he knelt back, pulling her up with him until she was seated in his lap, legs wrapped around him still, and his hips moving him deeper inside of her. Somehow he was reaching a point further in her this way and while it still hurt a bit, it felt better than before. She wished they could have had more time to do this. Perhaps trying out differing locations would make it better for her. He quickened his drives and by the slack-jawed expression on his face, he was approaching the end. A few more thrusts like that and he laid her on her back once more. His movements were sharper, hurried.

All at once, he withdrew quickly, grabbed himself, and pumped. As he gasped her name, the liquid surged from him to land on her stomach in spurts.

It seemed risky, but this was apparently the way men prevented getting a woman pregnant. Incredibly risky and required control and self-knowledge on the man's part. Kalysta was fascinated by it, wondering whether it actually worked all the time. It was better not to find out though.

She grabbed an edge of a blanket and wiped herself off carefully as Zayn rolled and collapsed onto the bed next to her. He sighed deeply and reached for her, pulling her to him. He kissed her forehead and then her lips.

"By the gods, Kalysta," he moaned. "If only we'd been doing that sooner." He kissed her again and held her close, babbling rubbish and sighing.

It was almost cute for her to see him like this, extremely vulnerable, but still awake. His face was relaxed and his eyes held a drugged look. The whole effect almost made her laugh at the idea that she had created this aftermath.

"Mmm," he hummed, smiling lazily. "I'm glad you're all mine."

With that cryptic, and nonsensical, statement he fell fast asleep.


	69. Back to Reality

It was time to leave.

She stood and adjusted to the pain that presented immediately. How irritating! It was to be expected after what she'd done, but the idea that men didn't experience this made her a bit angry. She let out a soft groan when she considered that she would be riding a horse for the next several days. There was a bit of blood, on the sheets and on her thighs. Zayn would have to take care of the sheets, but she could fix something until she got back home and could wash herself properly again.

Getting dressed was a feat too, separating her clothes from Zayn's. It had been strewn everywhere. But this was worth it, worth being that close to him. Soon there would be more than miles to divide them. These memories would have to last her a lifetime.

He was lying flat on his stomach when she turned to look at him again. She walked over to the bed, quietly, hoping not to disturb him. In no realm of the world would she be emotionally capable of handling an intense parting with him.

She reached over to touch him one last time, brushing a thumb over his cheek, running a finger down his spine to the curve of his lower back, and skimming her palm down the tattoos on his arm. No time would be enough, and they'd had less time than most. Finally, she pressed a kiss to his cheek and left the cabin, easing the door closed behind her.

Louis was standing near the railing a ways away, looking out across the water.

"I knew Zayn wouldn't be much of a guard tonight," he commented without looking at her. "Seems I was right." His tone wasn't judgmental; if anything, he sounded sad.

She didn't respond. She simply walked over to him and joined his pensive gazing.

"Are you ready to go?" He asked the question carefully.

"Has Starling been brought from below?"

"Yes."

"Then I am ready."

Louis left briefly to get more men up to assist them in the move.

The men were quick about it. They used the rope and canvas harness to lower Starling into the biggest schiff they possessed on the Partheos as well as the rest of her luggage. Most of it hadn't been used anyway.

Finally, she and Louis climbed down the ladder to the one-masted sailing boat. It held their weight and Starling's, but just barely. Their progress to shore would be slow-going.

He removed the rope moorings and pushed off. She sat out of the way, feeling useless again, as Louis adjusted the ropes and rudder and they gained speed. The wind passing through her hair felt amazing.

Some weakness in her made her turn around and look. The light of the lanterns on the Partheos grew smaller as they pulled away. That caused more pain than she was willing to admit. She couldn't look away either.

The lights blurred as tears filled her eyes and spilled over. Emotion had always been her weakness. She could look at her emotion clinically, and say that it was useless to put so much stock in it, but that didn't stop her from feeling it.

The worst pain was that no matter how many times her mind chased this in a circle, she couldn't find a way out. She'd never wanted something so badly and nothing had ever been this far out of reach. Her heart was her biggest enemy, for it had picked the most unbearably impossible object of desire. It hurt. It hurt so badly she wished there were some way to forget everything. The counter to that was, her memories were all she had left.

Analyzing everything made her feel worse and she bowed her head out of the wind. The cold air against the tears on her face hurt so she shielded herself.

"Here, Princess." Louis gave her a handkerchief. "I warned you," he whispered. "I'm sorry that things have ended the way they have and I take no pleasure in your pain. I wish it could have been avoided." He quieted for a second. "Know that he suffers too."

The thought didn't bring her any comfort.

\--- --- --- --- --- --- --- --- --- --- --- --- ---

They got to shore and she waited in the cover of darkness as Louis purchased another horse to ride to Haven with her. Where did Zayn and Louis get their money? They essentially had the support of three different nations, but it was a little frivolous. Louis returned and they started out.

Riding a horse was as painful as she'd suspected. She wouldn't let Louis know that, though. He knew what had happened that evening. He knew and he had said he was sorry for her emotional pain. The idea of admitting a consequence of these actions hurt her pride.

At first, Louis pressed their travel hard. They rode through the rest of the night and into the morning as the sun came up. Kalysta was exhausted and everything ached.

"Louis," she called, getting him to slow some, "despite my earlier assertions, I am not particularly eager to return to Haven, at least not that quickly. Arriving home will start a cascade of events that I, quite frankly, dread."

He slowed to a stop and dismounted. "We can walk then." Kalysta joined him and they walked their horses east and then a bit north.

"I really am sorry for keeping the information about your father from you," Louis said after a bit.

"I can't fault you. I may have overreacted." Kalysta chuckled. "I have a tendency to do that, if you hadn't noticed."

"Actually, I had." His voice was careful, but she could sense the teasing there. "But I can't fault you either. You're trying to fix a situation that you are not responsible for."

Kalysta accepted this silently, glad they'd cleared the air. They continued walking, leading the horses, stopping only occasionally to grab food from their bags or relieve themselves. There was a twinge of pain for almost everything she did, but walking was immensely better than riding the horse.

The day passed quickly. Louis led them through more of the trees and they stayed away from the roads. As evening fell, Kalysta more readily recognized the landscape; they would reach Haven before the next morning. The thought heightened her anxiety. Tomorrow she would be facing her father and the counsel.

\--- --- --- --- --- --- --- --- --- ---

They exited a small grove of trees and they were on the outskirts of Haven. Kalysta almost couldn't breathe.

"This is where I leave you." Louis stepped next to her and placed a hand on her shoulder. "Zayn and I need to be far away from Elysium when it's revealed you have returned."

"Everyone thinks I've been deathly ill," Kalysta responded. "I can only hope you are not connected with me at all."

"We hope for the same." He moved her so they were facing and stuck out his hand. "It's been an unexpected delight to work with you, Princess."

She ignored the hand and pulled him into a hug. His surprise was evident as his muscles stayed tense. Eventually he relaxed and returned the platonic embrace.

"Thank you for your help, Louis," she said quietly.

"I played my small part," he accepted, moving out of the hug. "If we have done anything to help, I am glad, but the future is still uncertain and you have a considerable problem ahead."

"Yes, because I wasn't already apprehensive about what's coming." She rolled her eyes. "I'll go now, before you can encourage me even more."

He laughed. "Take care, Princess. Don't give up hope yet."

She nodded and turned, leading Starling forward. After a few steps, she remembered to put her hair up under the cap. Her face would be more recognizable now and she wished that she had her Lyra wig at least. Thinking more, she took some dirt and rubbed it on her face with the intent of disguising her features.

When she glanced behind her Louis was gone, having faded into the trees. This departure left her with a tangible disenchantment, as if the last few weeks had been a dream and she was being forced back into reality. It wasn't a pleasant feeling.

She plodded farther into the city as the sun broke over the horizon.

\--- --- --- --- --- --- --- --- --- ---

Most of the city wasn't awake yet, so she made her way quickly to Pips and Pints, looking for William. She let herself in, after leaving Starling in the stable, and saw that the common room still housed several of the drunks from the night before. Even in the poorly lit area she was able to make her way through to the hallway behind the bar and William's room was at the end of it. When she reached it she pounded her fist on the door. With any luck, Delia would be there too.

"Oi! What's the meaning of this?" came William's voice from inside. "Sod off!"

She hit her fist against the door again and then spoke softly. "Lyra needs assistance." It was their code.

The door swung open quickly to reveal William and Delia.

"Milady!" Delia gasped, reaching out and pulling her into the room.

Kalysta heard the door close behind her and then Delia had enveloped her a bone-crushing hug. She returned it, laughing at the welcome.

"It's just so good to see you, Milady!" Delia gasped. "Let me look at you." She moved back and held Kalysta at arm's length. "You're so thin! Have you been sick?" She yanked the cap off and gasped at the state of Kalysta's hair. "Have you bathed at all since you left?"

As always, William summed everything with a quick question. "Are you well, Miss Lady?"

Kalysta laughed again. "I am well, thank you both." To William, she asked, "Did you accomplish the task I gave you before I left?"

He nodded, leaving it at that.

"Thank you. Delia, how are things in the castle? How are the people?"

The woman sighed, sitting on the edge of the bed. "They're not good, Milady. The castle has been in disarray since you left. The news got out you were afflicted and there was quite the stir of fear; you're more beloved than you realize. Your father has been a right mess, to say the least. He has been worried sick, made even more so by your disappearance and his own powerlessness. You know how he gets when he doesn't have a way out, he starts looking like a trapped badger. When he discovered I didn't know anything he went into a rage."

"Oh, Delia, I'm so sorry!" Kalysta gasped. "He didn't take it out on you, did he?"

"Well, he had me dismissed, but nothing worse. He kept on that little slip of a girl, Emily, for when you returned."

Kalysta shook her head in anger. Her father could have a temper, she knew, but this was ridiculous. "Consider yourself reinstated," she announced, standing straight. "You can return with me when I go back to the castle."

"Not on my life, Milady, no disrespect." Delia held up her hands defensively. "I shudder to think what your father would do if I stepped back in that place."

"He'll do absolutely nothing," Kalysta hissed. "It's time someone stood up to him and it's going to be me. You'll come back because I need you. Whatever he has to say, you are my maid and that's not his decision to make."

Kalysta reached out and took William's hand. "I thank you for watching over her. If something had happened to her I don't know what I would have done."

"It was my pleasure, Miss Lady," he said, bowing slightly.

"If you may, could I stay in a room until night falls?" Kalysta asked. "I want to travel back under the cover of darkness. I can't take any chances with this."

"Of course, Miss Lady. I'll take you to one now before the customers wake up. Miss Delia can keep you company while I work."

"Thank you, William."

Delia stood to join them as William led the way out and up the back stairs to the rooms. He gave her one close to the stairway and handed her the key. "Don't be openin' the door except if it's me." He kissed Delia quickly and left.

Kalysta sat on the bed, the exhaustion finally hitting her. "I know he said you could keep me company, but I have to admit that I can't do the same. I'm absolutely beat."

"There's a change in you, Milady," Delia said. "You're surer of yourself if that's possible."

"That happens when you have to find things on your own," Kalysta answered, lying back and sighing.

"But you weren't on your own, were you?" Delia's voice was suspicious.

"What do you mean?" Kalysta sat up again.

Delia pulled a paper from her pocket. "I found this in your room after you left."

Kalysta gasped, recognizing it as the letter from King Naseer. "Did you read it?" she breathed, snatching it from Delia. "Please tell me you've told no one of this, I beg of you!"

"Of course not, Milady! Who do you take me for, a gossiping imbecile?"

Kalysta almost collapsed with relief. "No, I don't think so little of you, it's simply... if you've read it then you know the dangers if it fell into the wrong hands. I was so careless to leave it lying about. No one else knows of it?" She tucked the letter into her shirt.

"None but the two of us and whoever you've told," Delia said, "as well as the Ambassador. Which brings me back to what I said earlier. You weren't traveling on your own, were you? The Ambassador accompanied you"

"Yes," Kalysta answered shortly.

"I was under the impression that you despised the man," Delia put forth carefully, sitting in the hard wooden chair was the only other furniture in the room. "One letter from a King you don't know and you're willing to go on a lark with him?"

"I didn't despise him!" Kalysta countered, but retraced her words at the withering look Delia directed. "I suppose I did feel an intense dislike, but that was before I knew him! He-He's not that man I met at the banquet or in the council chambers. He's more and he's working against his father, to help us, all of Dalitrise, even though he could be put to death for it! He's doing his best and-"

"I'll stop you right there, Milady, and beg you to forgive my interruption," Delia cut in. "I know that expression on your face, and I hear the way you talk of him. I know what it means and you must do away with it. Stop those thoughts right this instant. I'm just your maid and I have no right to be speaking in this manner, but you can't go down this path! You can't have feelings for this man!"

"Whatever do you mean, Delia?" Was she that obvious?

"Milady, I know you." The woman's voice was low, pleading. "I know your moods and the way your mind works. It's how I can serve your family so well. I've never seen you this enamored with anything. If you're like this just talking about him, how much do you give away when you're around him? Does he know?"

Kalysta sighed, putting her head in her hands.

"Milady, talk to me." Delia came over and sat next to her on the bed, putting her arms around Kalysta.

"He knows," Kalysta whispered, "and he feels the same."

Delia scoffed, removing her arms and crossing them. "I'm sure he'd like you to think that, to stay happy in order to make you more agreeable to helping this resistance of his."

"He's not like that," Kalysta said, looking up. "That's something I know for sure."

"How can you be sure in something like this?" Delia was looking at her with fear and worry clearly evident. "You don't know the man."

"It's something you simply know about someone." Kalysta didn't want to get into detail. Somehow, admitting this to Delia was harder than the idea of her parents finding out.

"You... you haven't acted on this, have you?" Delia asked carefully.

Kalysta didn't know how to answer, but her silence spoke volumes enough, apparently.

"Oh, Milady, no!" Delia breathed. "You're better than this! You know better! What of the consequences?"

"I have this well in hand, Delia!" Kalysta snapped. She didn't like having her own fears echoed back at her. "I do what needs to be done and I'll make sure no one finds out!"

"You can't possibly think you have a future with him, do you?" Delia asked softly.

"No! But does that mean I give up any semblance of a life? I've given up everything else! Can I not have this one thing? This one joy when I could be married to a monster in such a short period of time?"

"I thought you left to help prevent marrying the Prince?"

Kalysta looked to the floor, remembering her embarrassment and failure. "Things didn't go according to plan, no," she confessed. "I have been made aware of something dangerous and perhaps the only way to save Elysium is to marry Niall."

"This is so very dangerous."

"Which is why I didn't want you involved," Kalysta pressed earnestly.

"I'm willing to take any punishment for you, Milady." Delia's voice broke. "But are you willing to deal with the consequences if any of this is found out? It's not just a resistance I worry about. Were you wise about this? You can't be having children before you're married."

"We took... precautions," Kalysta whispered. "Gods, Delia, this is mortifying to speak of with you."

Delia harrumphed. "If you're old enough to do it, then you're old enough to speak of it." She was silent for a moment. "How do you really feel about him?"

"Delia, I-." Kalysta stopped, not sure how much she would reveal to the woman unknowingly. "He's a good man. Under different circumstances, I-." She couldn't finish.

Delia sighed. "Perhaps you could arrange a marriage with him instead? Surely Murdoch just wants a foothold in this country. He wouldn't care which son."

"That's doubtful. Zayn is illegitimate and is therefore ineligible to rule a country or city-state of Mullingar. There is no way Niall would stand for the familial pissing contest that would ensue either. From what I've picked up, he holds more than the necessary sibling rivalry with Zayn and would put a stop to it before the suggestion was even a complete thought." Kalysta stared at the ground, dismayed that she was vocalizing all of her own futile thoughts. It was a circular thought process and made more discouraging by the number of times she'd gone through it.

"I'm sorry, Milady," Delia ventured, putting her arm around her again. "Your first heartbreak is always the worst. I wish you could have avoided it altogether."

Kalysta leaned into the woman, unable to hold back the tears that flowed. "There are some things you can't avoid, Delia."

"Was he at least kind to you?"

Kalysta knew what she meant. "Yes, very much so. Very kind. And conscientious."

"At least there's that." Delia sighed once more before standing and going over to the chair again. "You might as well get some rest, Milady. You're going to need it for whatever you have planned this evening."

Kalysta did as instructed, sliding under the covers and curling onto her side. Since she'd entertained so many useless thoughts today, she allowed herself one more, wishing that Zayn were there to hold her as she drifted off to sleep.


	70. Essential Enemies (or The Changing of the Guard)

Zayn's POV

He woke up alone. For the first time, he wished his company had stayed. He understood why she'd done it, but her sneaking away made it feel like they'd done something wrong. They had; he needed to tell himself that. Having done this couldn't be considered right if he analyzed it, but it had felt right at the time. The rum and her impending departure had coincided to cloud his judgment. They'd been hasty and foolish, but he couldn't bring himself to truly regret it.

Everything that had happened was for the best. Their time was over. Any longer together and their parting would have been even worse. As it was, he was afraid to admit how much he cared about her. He wanted to go with her, help her in what was surely going to be a horrific fight with her father, but he was trapped, required to go hide in another country until sent for to finish negotiations. There was no way to ignore the fact that those negotiations would end with her marrying his brother. He put his face in his hands, demoralized. No good solutions existed.

When he saw her again they would be essential enemies again. He'd never get to hold her again, not in any capacity. The first time he'd held her was when these emotions had first emerged, unwelcome, the first time he'd held her as she cried over her fears. He'd had the honor of lending strength to this woman who wanted to do everything on her own. They'd shared strength, fear, and comfort.

That was over now and Zayn wished he could have the time to properly grieve over something important coming to a close, but he needed to be in another nation soon so Kalysta could send for him. Perhaps a stop to see his father was in order too, not that the thought made him any more eager to leave.

Regardless, it was time to put the mask back on. Who knew if he'd ever be able to remove it again?

Kalysta's POV

She woke of her own accord with the disturbing feeling of being unaware of the time. There was no window in her room and based on the depth of her sleep she could have been sleeping for days with no knowledge of it. She sat up and stretched, looking around for Delia.

The woman was sat in the chair next to the door, her head slumped to the side as she slept. Kalysta was glad she could get some sleep. The next few days weren't going to be easy for either of them. Delia had probably had a good time here, no actual responsibilities and relaxing with the man that she loved. She would never admit to loving William, would say she was too old for such foolishness, but Kalysta knew better. Just as Delia had suspected the depth of her feelings for Zayn, Kalysta could see just how much Delia had minimized her own regard for William.

"Delia, wake up," Kalysta called, coming to a determination. "It's time for me to go back. I'm sure night has fallen by now."

Delia shook herself and stood to move the chair to a corner. "Very well, Milady, let us be off then."

"I've changed my mind, Delia," Kalysta admitted. "You won't be returning with me to the castle."

"What could you mean by that?"

"You have a good life here. William takes good care of you, there's no danger. Instead of being involved in castle politics and drama, you'd be able to relax. You deserve that."

"Are you talking to me like I'm old?" Delia was clearly indignant. "I may have raised you, but I'm not dying any time soon. I've thought about it and I'm all you have in that castle. There's no way I'm abandoning you to that. You've got me and you're stuck with me. Besides, I'd get too soft staying here with Bill waiting on me hand and foot."

"You say that like it's a bad thing," Kalysta laughed, having almost forgot how stubborn her maid could be.

"Ach, this was a nice holiday, but there's work to be done. Bill needs to keep on his toes. If I'm here all the time he'll start letting his romance slacken, and I can't have that."

"No, of course not."

"I'll say goodbye to Bill and we can be on our way. You'd best do your disguise back up. No use in being careless now."

Delia did as she'd said and they went to the stable to grab Kalysta's belongings from among Starling's bags. It would be easier to transport with both of them and the cover of darkness would be advantageous in preventing suspicion from rising as to her identity.

The going was slow as they lugged her packs and bigger case up the natural incline to the castle.

"How'd you manage this on your own before?" Kalysta puffed.

"That was going down the hill, obviously," Delia complained.

"Honestly, I didn't use much of it."

"Don't say that!" Delia's voice strained as she tripped a bit on a rock. "I'm half a mind to let you haul this yourself after a report like that."

"Oh, stow it," Kalysta chuckled. "I'm a cossetted Princess. At least you have experience and muscle built up hauling things."

The remainder of the time was silent. They approached the garden entrance to the south gate and entered through to the secret passage she'd used to keep her comings and goings secret from the public. She was doubly glad for its existence now.

Upon reaching her rooms, she was amazed to see how little had changed. She hadn't been gone long, but it seemed like years ago since she was here last, telling Delia of her plans to depart.

A gasp made Kalysta drop her things and whip out the throwing knife Louis had given her, turning to face the possible threat and reading a throwing stance.

It was the maid she'd hired before leaving, Emily.

Kalysta stood straight, tucking the knife away again and removing her cap.

"It's me, Kalysta," she said, holding out her hands cautiously. "Sorry to have startled you, Emily."

The girl sighed. "I wasn't sure where you'd come from. Quite a surprise, Milady." She cocked her head. "Did you go get some sun while you were gone?"

Emily held herself in a visibly different manner, more sure, as if she'd regained some of what she'd lost in the wake of her attack. It wasn't entirely returned, though. There was still a haunted quality to the girl's eyes.

"The man, Hayden, the one who hurt you, is dead," Kalysta responded without answering the question posed.

"That's a relief," Emily admitted, surprise flitting across her face. "That isn't what you left to do, I hope?"

"No. It was a separate issue that was addressed in the meantime."

"Regardless, I'm glad you're back." The girl held a lock of her light brown hair between her fingers and twirled it, obviously a nervous habit. "It's been difficult, fielding people's nosy attempts at entering the rooms and keeping people up to date on your supposed progress of healing. Any longer and it might not have worked anymore.

"And Delia, I'm glad you're back as well. I'm not quite as well-trained as I'd like."

"Give me your view of how things have been going," Kalysta said, moving to undress. "And if you would ready a bath for me I would greatly appreciate it."

Emily nodded. "I'll have the men fetch the warm water and leave it outside." She left the room momentarily and returned, gathering together Kalysta's discarded clothing. "Things have been... strained. The mood of the castle has been subdued at best, and morose more often than that. Your illness frightened them and they were feeling the pressure from Mullingar more, even without that dreadful Ambassador here. He stormed out of here in a fit after you disappeared, by the way. I wasn't sure you'd be coming back, Milady, from wherever it was you went." She stopped talking and gave Kalysta a hopeful look, wanting a hint as to where she'd gone. It was the same look her mother's maids gave when they were itching for gossip to spread.

"Emily, the way to stay my maid and possibly become a confidante is not by fishing for information." Kalysta's voice was quiet and scary. She'd learned something from King Thomas, it seemed. "Once I have ascertained that you are trustworthy, I may begin to make you privy to my dealings. I can tell you that the quickest way to earn my trust is to keep your mouth closed of things you do hear. Gossip-mongers are everywhere, so you will be silent on anything and everything spoken of unless Delia or I tells you differently. I thank you for your efforts while I was gone, but being my maid is a privilege, not a right. Is all of that clear?"

Emily's eyes widened and she nodded.

"Good; thank you for your understanding." Kalysta turned and stepped into her bathing room, comforted by the familiarity of everything. "Delia, would you help me rinse off before the water arrives? The bath will turn to mud if I climb in like this."

Delia brought a couple of washcloths in and a pitcher of water. "You were quite scary back there, Milady, and a tad harsh," she said quietly.

"She needs to learn now that I won't tolerate behavior such as the other maids exhibit,' Kalysta replied unapologetically. "The sooner she accepts it, the better."

Delia sighed and handed Kalysta a wetted cloth before starting to wipe down Kalysta's back. "When you undressed I saw some blood in your underclothes. How long ago were you with him?"

"Two days past." Kalysta started washing down her arms.

"So recent. Then you haven't been doing it often?"

"No, Delia." Kalysta's returning answer was harsh, she knew, but this was still a raw subject for her.

"Easy, Milady," Delia soothed gently. "I'm just wondering. Do you still hurt there?"

Unbidden tears sprang up in Kalysta's eyes as she tried not to think of it all anymore. "A tiny bit, but not as much as before." It'd be better to get the tears out now.

"Oh, child, I know the pain," Delia crooned. "Even if he was as kind as you say, it can be dreadful."

"Don't say it like that, Delia," Kalysta sniffed.

"Come now, Milady," her maid scoffed. "He's a Royal. He's used to getting what he wants and it takes a rare man to treat a woman well in bed anyway."

"Then he's a rarity among men and Royals." Just speaking of him made her heart throb in pain.

"Oh, you do have it bad," Delia scoffed. "Did he look after you at all?"

This made Kalysta laugh. The subject was awkward, but if there were anyone to talk to about it, Delia would be the best. "He 'looked after me', as you say, more often than I did him."

Delia made a ludicrous "oo"ing noise. "He is a rarity! How'd you have such luck at a young age?"

Kalysta wasn't sure how to feel. She felt both lucky and cursed. "It took a lot of persuading on my part."

The responding scoff from Delia was to be expected. "I'm sure he was a difficult man to sway into your bed."

"It was his bed, but yes. Spirits finally did the trick."

Delia laughed uproariously, making Kalysta nostalgic for the days when worry didn't plague them and the worst thing to happen was Kalysta's skipping her lessons for the day.

"Well, I can't exactly say 'Well done', but it could certainly be worse."

Kalysta stayed silent, continuing to wash her limbs and body.

Emily stepped in then. "I've brought in the buckets, Milady."

"Many thanks," Kalysta responded. She got into the bathing tub and luxuriated in the feeling of water pouring over her as the two women emptied the buckets in on her.

"What's the plan, Milady?" Delia asked after a while. "You're here. What are you going to do? What did you accomplish in your leave?"

"The results may be some time coming." Kalysta didn't want to answer fully. She didn't entirely trust the girl Emily, and the less she revealed about her time gone, the better. If anyone was asked, they could answer truthfully that they did not know where she'd gone or what she'd gone to do. "There may be nothing to see. I explored possible avenues of question and the trip was worth the time spent. I will speak with my father and then send emissaries to find the Ambassador of Mullingar. When he has returned, I will finish negotiations for my marriage to Prince Niall."

"No, Princess, you can't!" Emily gasped. "His men are evil! He will be much more so!"

"Silence, girl!" Delia's voice rang out abruptly. "Keep your hysterics in until such time as you can express yourself in a productive manner?"

Emily quieted, but her breathing was still heavy with concealed emotion.

"Emily, I know the reason for your protest," Kalysta said quietly. "What you endured was horrendous; I do not lessen that. But believe me when I say, the atrocities committed by those same evil men will be even worse in the event of war. Even good men use battle as an excuse to do terrible things. We cannot stand before Mullingar in war, so I will do what I must to avoid it, even if that involves marriage to a very bad man."

The silence stretched out before Emily replied, "It is as you say, Milady."

Kalysta finished her bath and felt some of her old self return. She could handle what was to come. Everything before could be handled, and she could handle anything else. When she tried on clothes, though, she was more than a bit discouraged. It had been clear that she'd lost weight, but it was painfully evident in the way her clothing sagged on her frame.

"I'll be taking some of your dresses in until you regain the weight, Milady," Delia assured her. "Emily, you are an accomplished seamstress, are you not?

"Yes, ma'am."

"That's what we'll be doing then." Delia nodded. "I'll pin this one carefully so that it doesn't hang in such an ill-fitting manner. You can see your father while we're in a different room fixing up your wardrobe. The people will expect a bit of weight loss with an illness, but we don't want to make it glaringly obvious."

Strangely, the skirts and petticoats were odd on her after so long wearing trousers. Never would she have expected to feel out of sorts in women's clothing, but she could see the comfort of pants. Her movement was once again limited, but she had more places to store her weapons and a better understanding of how to use them.

Delia fixed the dress as she said and Kalysta sent them to bring her father to her chambers. It was time to face him. It was time to face the man that had raised her and had betrayed her all the same.

\--- --- --- --- --- --- --- --- ---

"Kalysta!" Her father burst into the room. "Are you well?" He rushed over to where she sat and kneeled, clutching her hands in his. His hair was disheveled and she was worried that this man who was always put together could look as unkempt as he did. "I've been out of my mind!" he continued at her silence. "Where did you go? You could have been hurt! Your mother has been ill these weeks!"

Kalysta allowed him a moment of consternation. She had left without telling them her plans, after all.

"We have much to discuss, Father," she replied carefully. "Please take a seat."

He had clearly caught her tone, for he did as she said, giving her a questioning look. "You aren't going to answer me?"

"There are more pressing things to talk about than my absence."

He looked like he'd been slapped. "Kalysta. What is wrong? You look so different. What's gotten into you?"

"The truth, I suppose you could say. I've stumbled upon a hard truth."

His brow furrowed and his chin rose. "Explain yourself, daughter."

"Why did you turn Naseer away?" she asked. "I've heard you speak of him, of the friendship you shared after Bradford helped Elysium recover following the Five Years War. Though I do not know him personally, I have always viewed the idea of him positively because of you. So again, I ask, why did you turn him away? He asked you for help, did he not?"

"Who told you this?" he breathed. "To whom have you been talking?"

"That's not important." Kalysta was determined to keep calm. She wouldn't let her anger and sorrow impact her behavior. "Answer the question."

"I don't wish to speak of Bradford or King Naseer at this point."

"That's too bleeding bad, isn't it?" she snapped. "I asked and you're going to answer, because I want an explanation as to why your name has been spoken in the same sentence as sympathizers of Murdoch!" There went her attempt at calm. "I want to know why you pretended to be clueless when sent pleas to the other nations and they rejected us!"

She watched as the man before her was overcome with fear. His knuckles tightened on the rails of the chair, the clench of his jaw looked painful, and his breathing increased like he had been running.

"You don't know what you're talking about," he finally dismissed.

"Don't try to feed me your lies anymore!"

"You have no right to speak to me that way!"

"Naseer brought a plea before you, just as we have plead the other nations! And you turned him away! What did Murdoch give you? What have you been promised, coward?"

He stood at this and jabbed a finger in her direction. "Do NOT speak in that tone of voice! I don't care what you think you know, I refuse to let anyone call me a coward!

"But it's the truth, is it not?" she shrieked, rising as well. "I was almost killed by bandits! Me! Your daughter! Your heir! I saw the burnt and abandoned homes in the countryside, though you had led me to believe we were bettering this nation. You are a liar and a coward and I will say what I please! If what I say is false, then enlighten me, but choose your words carefully, for I know more than you would think."

He sat again and put his head in his hands. "How have things gotten so wrong?" he whispered. "I've done my best. I've done all I could."

"What have you done?" Kalysta stayed standing.

"You wouldn't have done any differently!" he protested. "You believe in a world of right and wrong, but the world is not so stark in contrast! There are too many things to consider!"

"What. Have. You. Done?" she repeated.

"It's true; Naseer sent me word that he wanted to rid himself of Mullingar's rule. He was desperate." Her father looked at the ground in shame, his voice quiet. "Though we aren't strong militarily or economically, we could still provide support and be a good staging ground if the other nations got involved and gave their support. I gave him a favorable reply, saying that I was open to the idea.

"Murdoch came to visit me, then... personally. You were very young at the time, so you wouldn't remember. It's probably the first time he's left his stronghold in the entirety of his reign and it was to scare me. He succeeded. He threatened everything. Elysium was just starting to regain its footing. He said that if I stayed out of his dealings with Bradford then he wouldn't wipe us from the map. He promised!" His voice rose. "He told me to stay out of it and he wouldn't kill you, my only child at the time, wouldn't attack us. He would leave us alone to live in peace! That's all I wanted! I just wanted peace, a time to build ourselves after we were so decimated and undermined by the results of the war!"

"And you believed him." Kalysta couldn't stand it. The man before her was supposed to be her rock, the only one who wouldn't falter in the face of corruption. She'd believed in him, believed in what her country stood for. He'd essentially removed her foundation. "You know Murdoch is a horrible liar, but you believed him anyway. Naseer was your friend!"

"You have no idea what it is like to rule a country!" he snapped. "When you face what I do then you'll understand why I told Naseer I couldn't help."

"Apparently I do run a country!" she returned. "I'm putting out the fires you lit and getting burned for it! Congratulations! You've managed to make all of Dalitrise despise us! You let fear destroy a long friendship and our only hope for redemption in the face of this war!"

"You have no idea what you're talking about! Do not pretend you could have done better!"

"I'll marry Niall," she said slowly, her voice quiet once more. It was the voice she'd learned from Thomas and her father responded to it accordingly. His mouth formed an "o" of surprise. "I'll negotiate the proposal and pay the price for your failures. I only hope I can put a patch on the torrent of consequences you've put us at risk for. Damn you and your fear." She stood and moved toward the door, but stopped and looked back at him before exiting. "You're relieved of command, by the way. I'll take over the ruling of this country before you can foible it into Murdoch's hands. Try to undermine me and I will not hesitate to expose your treason and cowardice to the council.

"I never thought I'd see the day where I despised my own father more than my enemy."

She pulled the door shut behind her and headed to the council chambers.


	71. In Opposition

Kalysta strode into the council chambers where the meeting had been held up by her father's abrupt departure. The looks on the council members' faces as she entered were laughable. Their mouths gaped and more than one made gasping, stuttering noises.

"P-Princess! You're well?!" one called.

Others joined in, asking after her health and expressing delight at being able to see her.

She moved to the vacant head chair before answering.

"I thank you for your well-wishes and thoughts in my time of illness," she said. "As you can see, I have lost weight in its clutches and some of the herbs given to help me recover have tinged my skin." Several of the more medically knowledgeable council members nodded in understanding. "I am recovered, however, and with that in mind, would like to continue where my father left off with his negotiations."

They all looked surprised, but pleased with her action.

"I fear for where my absence has left us politically," she admitted next. "If the Ambassador of Mullingar has alerted King Murdoch as to what is going on, then they may believe marital acquisition to be impossible. Therefore, I believe we should bring the Ambassador back as quickly as possible to finish outlining the marriage treaty. My father agrees, but my bout of sickness has left him with an ill constitution toward my marriage to Prince Niall, so he has chosen to leave the dealings to me. I know my father's mind and I am capable of making the best decision for Elysium without giving ourselves wholly to Mullingar. He does not wish to be directly involved in the treaty-making process and in light of his withdrawal I hope I can count on the expertise and wisdom of this council." The flattery would have to distract them from the poorly-formed excuse for her father's lack of participation.

It worked.

"Princess," a council-man, Duke Crothers, voiced, "I speak for us all when I extend our joy at knowing you have recovered and say that we will help in any way possible. It takes great dedication and sacrifice to do as you are and it's a credit to your name. We look forward to working with you toward the safety and stability of this nation."

Kalysta was touched by the sentiment, but also couldn't help thinking that this man had no idea just how much she was giving up. But she shook herself from that line of thought. She couldn't allow anything to distract her now.

"I am immensely grateful," she responded, allowing a bit of emotion into her voice to fit the situation. "Without further ado, I would like to get down to business. I've been informed that the Ambassador of Mullingar has left to places unknown. Is that correct? There's been no word of where he is?"

"Yes, Your Majesty," Council-woman Mary answered. "He left shortly after he discovered you were so ill. This was following an argument with your father, of course."

"I would assume he still wants this union to succeed and to prevent political strife, so let us see if we can find him again." She pretended to think for a moment. "If I recall correctly, the Ambassador is a greedy man who enjoys his pleasures. He will be somewhere, then, that he is treated with the respect he believes he deserves. I propose that we send emissaries to the different capitols, seeking him out. We can have them carrying a message explaining that marriage is still an option to prevent hostilities. There's a hope he hasn't discouraged Murdoch's interest in diplomacy." She looked about her at each face, gauging their reactions. Several were nodding in agreement.

"If I may voice my opinion?" Council-woman Elizabeth raised her hand. "I am glad you are back, Princess; we've missed your insights.

"I, for one, believe that the emissaries are a good idea. Moving negotiations forward, and soon, would be best. Murdoch is unpredictable, but as long as negotiations continue, we can probably hold him off."

"All in favor of sending emissaries?" Kalysta asked. The entire council raised their hands. "Good. Since I have the backing of my father, the motion passes. We'll send them out tonight with messages signed by my father. With the blessing of the gods, we'll be able to curb the destructive force of Mullingar against Elysium.

"I believe that's all for this evening," she closed. "Thank you for your time. Unless something comes up, the next council meeting will be on schedule next week. Have a good evening." She nodded her head in dismissal.

As each council-member stood they bowed or curtsied before exiting the room.

When she was alone, she sighed and held her temples with her fingers. The stress of this was going to make her literally ill if she wasn't careful.

Quietly, she stood and went to her father's study. She would draft the messages to be sent with the emissaries and then find her father to get his signet ring to press for the seals. Then, she would see her mother and brother. They deserved to hear from her that all was well.

\--- --- --- --- --- --- --- --- --- --- ---

Her family was all together, as it turned out, in their sitting room. It wasn't unusual for her to draft things and get her father's approval, so her request wouldn't seem strange in front of her mother, but the strain in the father-daughter relationship would be evident. All she could hope was that her brother stayed blissfully ignorant to everything that was going on.

The minute Kalysta stepped into the room her mother was up from her chair and hugging Kalysta tightly. "Someday, I hope you'll tell me what was so important that you had to leave," she whispered. Then, louder, she said, "Oh, Kalysta, what are you doing up? Surely you should be abed still! Oh, but you are a welcome sight. We've been so worried."

"Did you almost die?" True to his nature, her brother was as curious and tactless as any other eight-year-old.

Kalysta laughed as her mother released her from the hug. "I'm glad you were concerned, Frankie. It was a dangerous illness, but I don't think I would have died from it."

"I'm glad you got better," he confessed. "I don't want to be a king. It seems like too much work." He made a face.

"Franklin, hug your sister," her mother scolded. "She's been sick and could use some encouragement from you."

"As you say, Ma-ma." He stood from where he'd been playing with his wood carvings of soldiers. "Thank you for not dying," he added as he hugged Kalysta around her waist.

"You're quite welcome, Frankie." She embraced him and then turned to her father. "I also came because I need your signature and seal on these missives we are sending to the Ambassador, wherever he may be."

Her father gave her a searching look, but she couldn't decipher the emotion behind it. "Very well," he said, standing and taking the letters over to a desk to sign. Once he signed them he handed them to her and then removed his ring, giving it to her as well. "Here. In case there is anything else that needs my mark of approval." Now, regret was clear on his face, but regret for what? She couldn't determine whether it was for his actions with Murdoch or just simply because they'd argued. He sat back down in his chair near the fire.

"Thank you, father," she said carefully. Regardless of the reason for his regret, he wasn't apologizing for the actions that had put her into this position in the first place. "I'll be off to bed when I'm finished here. Delia has returned to care for me." She watched her father's face for a reaction to her words.

"That's very good," her mother chimed in. "You never should have sent her away, Jonathan."

His jaw clenched, but he didn't say anything. He gave a nod of finality and stared into the fire pensively.

Kalysta shook her head in exasperation and left to finish her duties for the evening. She was exhausted. What was worse, she could feel the beginning of her monthly cycle coming on, the telltale ache in her stomach and back a clear sign of what was to come.

At least there was no pregnancy to worry about.

\--- --- --- --- --- --- --- ---

The next week Kalysta did her best to immerse herself back into life in the castle while simultaneously fighting the ravages of her monthly bleeding and the interpersonal complications of taking over for her father. Though it was difficult, she persevered. Part of it was the ever-present need to protect her people, her country, but it also had to do with her intense desire to keep her mind off of Zayn. She had a habit of thinking of him whenever she wasn't occupied, wondering where he was, when he would come back, and just how she would go about pretending he meant nothing to her. It kept her awake well into the night more often than not.

She missed his presence more than anything else. How strange that she would grow accustomed to sleeping next to him! In the brief time they'd spent together, she'd come to rely on his warmth and strength. It was all she could do to move about her day-to-day routine and not think of him every minute.

Finally, about two weeks after she had returned, word came to her that the Ambassador of Mullingar was approaching the city with his entourage. She was in the sitting room with her mother and brother when the butler brought her the news.

Immediately, she stood, giving her mother a parting kiss on the cheek and ruffling Franklin's hair before leaving for the dining hall. That was the proper place to greet a guest.

"Andrew, would you please make sure that my father is aware of our guest's arrival and that I will be greeting the Ambassador in the dining hall?"

The butler bowed at the requeset and hurried away.

Kalysta steeled herself for the coming situation. This time everything would be different. Fate had placed her in opposition to Zayn and there was nothing she could do about it anymore. Whatever her heart wanted, she would have to treat him like an enemy and show nothing of how she felt. He would be doing the same, and she knew him to be the better actor in every way.

As she stepped into the dining hall and sat at the head table she swore to herself that no one would suspect something because of her actions.

Her father joined her a moment later, as did the council. They all sat at the high table on the dais, grim and worried. She knew how Zayn would behave in this meeting, that he would be receptive to their extension of another marriage treaty, but the rest of the council didn't. Everyone felt pressure, but for different reasons.

The doors opened and he stepped in. His royal retinue was once again supplemented with Mullingans as well as Bradians.

There was no way Kalysta could have prepared herself for this moment. She drank the sight of him in like the desert sand sucked in the dew of the morning. He was clean-shaven, as he'd been when they first met, well-groomed and dressed, and there was a driven purpose in his step. His jaw was set, his chin was tilted upward, and his eyes were hard. Altogether, he was an exhilarating and frightening sight, nothing like the man with whom she'd developed such a close bond.

He stopped just in front of the high table and bowed the appropriate amount before standing straight before her and her father. His eyes didn't linger on her any more than on anyone else. She had to admit that he was extremely good at this. He gave no indication that anything had changed since he'd been in Elysium last.

"I received your missives, Your Highness," Zayn opened. His arrogance was back and Kalysta was glad she was privy to his real identity, for the man in front of them showed no cracks in his mask. In speaking first, he was placing himself above them in authority. "Are you ready to stop playing games and finish these negotiations? I will not pander to you any longer. My father grows impatient and I tire of running here at your behest."

Kalysta stood. Having taken the authority from her father, she would face this man herself.

"Ambassador, you go too far!" She let her voice carry harshly throughout the room. "You are here at our request because a diplomatic solution benefits us all. I know your King Murdoch wants Elysium for himself and he wants it whole, not ripped apart by war. With that in mind, keep a civil tongue in your head and remember your place."

Only her personal knowledge of him kept her from quavering at the sneer he gave her. He was drawing on a lifetime of Mullingar's egotism and bigotry. Their view of women was clear in his perusal of her.

"I thought we had established that I wouldn't be dealing with a woman in our negotiations," he answered calmly. "Surely, King Jonathan, you wouldn't want to put a hinder our dealings with such a foolish move."

"My daughter speaks with my authority, welp, and you'll do well to remember that." Her father's warning was low and angry. "I despise dealing with the likes of you Mullingans." His sneer was enough to rival Zayn's in its intensity. "Since diplomacy and prudence are necessary in this situation, I believe my daughter will be best suited to it."

She was surprised at his response, so quick to defend her despite their disagreement.

Zayn's face grew pinched in frustration. "Very well," he snapped. "I very much hope that you've recovered enough to deal properly, Princess. My father won't hold for any more delays of such kind."

"Your tediously incessant compulsion to bring up your father in every sentence wears on me, Ambassador, so I suggest that we retire for the evening. We have rooms prepared for you after your journey. On the morrow we will meet in the council chambers to discuss this marriage treaty in full."

"I am quite... grateful for your offer, Princess," he replied, "but I find the accommodations at your local inn more to my liking. I'll be ready to meet with you tomorrow."

Without another word, he turned on his heel and motioned his retinue to follow.

When the doors closed behind him, Kalysta finally drew in a breath and slumped back into her seat.

"Well, Your Majesty, may I say that you handled that quite well, considering," Duke Crothers said.

"You were too antagonizing," her father interrupted. "Do you want to start a war?"

"I believe I handled it in the way that was best, father." She gritted her teeth, determined that she would not show her anger to the council members. "You are all dismissed," she said, standing again. "Tomorrow evening we will meet him in the council chambers and all this will be settled then."


	72. No Apologies

Kalysta fairly flew to her room. She burst in and Emily shrieked in alarm. Delia was more composed in her response, but she too was surprised.

"Milady, are you alright?" she asked.

Kalysta caught her breath and said, "The Ambassador has returned. We meet tomorrow to discuss the marriage treaty." She barely kept herself composed in front of Emily. Her heart hurt. They had been that close, but they'd had to fake hatred, hatred when all she wanted was to feel the way he held her in his arms.

"Emily, you have the night off," Delia spoke quickly. "Go see your friends and enjoy a night together."

"Thank you, Miss Delia," the girl answered, curtsying and barely holding in her curiosity.

When she was gone, Delia moved forward. "How do you feel?" she asked. "Are you alright? Did you do anything to reveal yourself with him?"

"No, of course not," Kalysta protested. "Neither of us is a fool. He's a good actor and I know how to keep unruffled, for a time at least."

"Will you be able to keep up the charade?"

Kalysta nodded, suddenly seized with an idea. "I could go see him," she whispered, "dressed as Lyra."

"Didn't you just brag on not being a fool?" Delia snapped. "That's the most foolish thing I've heard! You absolutely cannot do that! The more you flaunt this, the more likely someone will figure it out!"

"I'm not flaunting anything!" Kalysta was being childish, she knew, but the desire to see Zayn, to see the man she knew him to be, was more powerful than her rational self. Anything involving him was certain to win against logic, not that she was proud of it. "If I'm going as Lyra then no one will suspect a thing."

"How long are you going to delude yourself, Milady?" Delia's voice was somber. "You have to be done with the man. Whatever you shared in the past must be just that: the past. You've got no business going to him now. It was too dangerous then and the danger has increased ten-fold."

Kalysta sat on the bed, defeated. "I can't help it. I just want to see him, not the Ambassador persona, the real man that he has to hide to protect himself."

"Dear, I want that for you." Delia came to join her in sitting on the edge of the bed. "I want you to be happy, but it can't be with him, not now especially."

Kalysta swiped away the petulant tears that had welled in her eyes. "You're right. I know you're right, and I hate it."

"I don't like it either. But we don't get to decide. All we can do is make the most of the hand we've been dealt in life."

Kalysta sighed and nodded. She had to be mature about this. Whatever spell she'd been under while on the Partheos was gone and she couldn't excuse that kind of behavior anymore.

"I believe I'll go to bed, then," she sighed. "I'll need my wits about me tomorrow."

"I agree. Get ready for bed. I'll stoke the fire to keep it warm in here and put up the shades to block the light for you."

Kalysta did as instructed, getting into night clothes and slipping under the covers. "Thank you, Delia," she whispered. "Good night."

"Good night, Milady." Delia came over and kissed Kalysta's forehead in a motherly fashion, something she hadn't done since Kalysta was a child. "I'm sorry for the way things are, for your pain. Get some sleep. Tomorrow is a new day."

\--- --- --- --- --- --- --- ---

Kalysta woke abruptly in the middle of the night for no apparent reason. It was still very dark, so she couldn't have been sleeping for long, especially since it'd taken her so long to get to sleep.

She sat up and looked around. The dim firelight showed an empty room. Delia was probably sleeping in her quarters next door. It was perfect.

Kalysta got out of the bed as quietly and quickly as possible. Maybe the night was young enough that she could see Zayn before Delia noticed she'd left. She didn't give herself time to consider whether or not she should go; she simply moved.

A quick perusal showed that her blond wig was missing. Either she'd lost it in the journey or, more likely, Delia had hidden it as a precaution. It wasn't going to stop her though. She did find her cap, so she donned it, tucking her hair up like before, wiped some soot from the fireplace onto her face, and dressed in her boy's clothing. It was a simple thing to go to the hidden passage and take it toward the garden.

However, just as she reached the exit door, Delia's voice rang out behind her.

"I had hoped I was wrong when I saw you leaving, but it seems you really are a fool."

Kalysta spun around and, when she caught sight of her maid, sighed. "I'm going, and there's nothing you can do to stop me."

"You're past the age where I'd drag you back forcibly," Delia answered, stepping up to her with her arms crossed over her chest. "I was hoping you'd let me talk some sense into you."

"Delia, I'm going." She was resolute.

"Then you won't mind my going with you."

Kalysta sighed in exasperation. "As if I could stop you," she returned, moving to the exit and stepping into the garden, which was predictably deserted.

Delia followed carefully and they made their way out of the garden, down the hill, and into the city to Pips and Pints. People were still moving about, so it wasn't terribly late in the evening. As they stood outside the inn, Delia spoke up. "I'm not happy about this."

"You've made that abundantly clear."

"We'll do this my way. I'll go in the front and have Bill gather your man discreetly. You enter through the back and go to the room he gave you when you first got back."

"Why are you helping?"

"If you're determined to ruin your life, then I'll do my best to slow down your descent."

Kalysta hugged her tightly. "Thank you. I mean it. I'm very grateful."

"I'm sure. Now go in the back and wait."

"Will the room not be in use? There are a lot of people in town."

"That's Bill's smallest room, so most don't want it. Also, he tends to only use it if dire situations come up."

Kalysta grinned. "Dire situations, like when you come to visit him unannounced?"

"Hush," Delia reprimanded her. "Get moving."

Kalysta did, going around to the entrance that led to the back stairwell. When she reached the room, she closed the door and sat in the chair, impatiently fidgeting as she waited. This was happening. She'd actually be able to see him.

Her heart leapt when the door opened, but it was just Delia.

"He's on his way, and incredibly confused," she said. "Bill was fairly vague, so the Ambassador has no clue what's happening. Luckily, he will go along with Bill for a bit." She leaned against the wall and they both waited.

When the door opened again, Kalysta stood from the chair quickly, almost knocking it over. William came in first, glanced about, and then ushered Zayn inside. As before, seeing Zayn was like finally being able to breathe properly as if the weight was gone from off her chest.

His face was shocked – he clearly recognized her through the poor disguise – before he schooled it into the arrogance and scorn she'd seen previously.

She waited until William had closed the door before launching herself forward to hold Zayn. His body was cold, tense, unyielding, and unwelcoming. He stood stiffly, not returning the embrace, completely dissimilar to what she was used to.

"What is this?" he asked, his voice annoyed. "What is going on?"

"Zayn, they know, they're safe," she whispered against his chest. "It's alright."

He shivered, but his reaction was immediate, pushing her away from him. "What are you doing here?" he breathed, abandoning his official façade. "Do you know how perilous of a situation this is, Kalysta?" His voice was shaky with some emotion she couldn't determine and he was running a hand through the trimmed hair at the side of his head in agitation. "You have to go," he continued. "We're risking too much."

This wasn't at all how she'd envisioned their reunion going, though. She'd thought he'd be as eager to see her as she'd been too see him. Her heart fell. He was choosing to look at this logically.

But she couldn't accept it. She'd just wanted to see him, to make sure he was well. Was that so wrong?

It was pathetic how often she cried lately, but once again, her eyes filled and she felt reprehensible. This was going poorly and now she was crying on top of it all. She had to find a way to control her emotions around this man! She scrubbed at her face and failed miserably at pretending there was nothing wrong.

"Oh, Kalysta," Zayn groaned, moving forward. "You know I can't abide your tears." It was but a moment, and then he'd pulled her against him, his arms enveloping her. She fit against him perfectly and she had the sense of belonging once more.

This was it; this was where she wanted to be. His arms held such strength and comfort for her, and when she was away from him she was fragmented, deficient. She was her best when she was with him.

His arms tightened further and he kissed her hair. "It's alright," he crooned, letting her cry for quite a bit longer.

"I'm sorry," she sniffled, averting her face and attempting to stem the flow.

"Well, we probably shouldn't be together, but it is what it is. Nothing to change about it now, I suppose."

"I didn't think we'd ever have a moment like this and I'm wasting it crying," she clarified, stepping back further. She stared at the ground, trying to get her roiling emotions in check. "I'm sorry. I can't seem to stop either."

"Why would you apologize for crying?" he chuckled softly.

She just shook her head.

He reached out and drifted his knuckles along her jaw before lifting her chin. When she finally met his gaze he leaned in to kiss her. She felt so disgusting, though, covered in soot and tears so she turned away.

"I don't mind that you're crying." His voice grew stressed at her rejection.

"I'm a bit repulsive. I wanted to disguise myself, so I'm dirty, and then my face is just..." The entire situation was embarrassing. "My nose is running and it's quite disgusting actually," she added quietly. 

He reached into his pocket and gave her his handkerchief, which she quickly used to mop herself up and wipe the soot from her face. The minute she looked back up at him, he leaned in and kissed her deeply. That was all it took for her to forget her embarrassment and melt in his arms.

Kissing him when he was clean-shaven was a new experience entirely, but just as pleasant. It was softer, gentler in a way. One of his arms stayed locked around her waist and the other he brought the other hand up to cup her face gently.

"I've missed you, so very much," he whispered against her lips as he kissed her.

She answered by gripping his shirt tightly and pulling his lower lip between her teeth.

When he groaned, she had the decency to pull away and look around them. Sometime in the midst of her crying and their kissing William and Delia had made good their escape, leaving the two of them alone in the room. She couldn't complain. She didn't want to have to be circumspect in her treatment of Zayn for someone else's sake.

She went right back to kissing him, wondering how she'd managed to make it through the last few weeks without him. Everything in her rebelled against the idea of his having such a hold on her, but she had to admit that she was fully ensnared. It was only now that she understood what he'd meant when he said that she made him feel like he was drowning.

And she didn't feel the slightest bit apologetic when their movements led them to the bed. In fact, she wasn't sure where else they could have ended up.


	73. Double Dose

The rain of his presence was a reprieve for the drought of her soul. She was looking into a future where she wouldn't be with him, so at the moment he was all that mattered. He calmed her and together they were able to provide each other a release of stress.

They didn't have much time, and she was determined to make the most of it. There was no way to know how long their privacy would last, either. As they fell onto the bed, she lost the cap from her head and any misgivings she might have had went with it.

She pulled him down over her where she lay on the bed, kissing his neck as she pulled on his shirt. When she'd removed it entirely he took over, pulling her shirt up past her chest, though he didn't remove it. He let out a groan when he saw she was wearing a breastband, but it didn't hinder his progress any. Unceremoniously he pushed it up as he had her shirt until both pieces of clothing were bunched under her arms. The pace was rushed out of necessity and Kalysta didn't mind a bit.

He kissed down her neck as his hands took turns exploring her body as if he'd never felt her skin before. "Silken," he whispered as his fingertips brushed along the underside of her breast. She was desperate for more, though, so she arched her back and wrapped an arm over his waist, pushing his hips down to meet hers. This was considerably more than she would have thought to do the last time, but with the urgency driving her she had no choice but to obey her instincts.

His response was a low groan that she felt reverberate all the way down to the ache in the pit of her stomach. She lifted her legs to wrap around him and he flattened down against her fully, resting in the cradle of her body. His teeth nipped at the skin of her neck and it made her half-crazy with desire.

"Please," she breathed.

He accommodated by kissing down her neck and putting his lips to torturing her breasts. Meanwhile, his hand slid down her body and beneath her trousers. It didn't take him long to get her writhing and twisting below him. The pressure inside her was more intense than ever before, as if the haste under which it was produced made it more arduous.

His fingers slid over the folds of her again and again before he gently eased one into her. This movement heightened the tension in her abdomen and she felt her hips move almost involuntarily to feel him deeper inside of her.

"Gods," he breathed, "Kalysta, you're absolutely drenched." It was delicious, the way he said her name in that course gasp. The slide of his fingers increased in pace and he captured her mouth with his. She felt his hips lower as he ground himself against her in time with the movement of his fingers, the friction making the distension of his manhood even harder. She grew light-headed with the sensory overload and drug her fingernails into the flesh below his shoulderblades. This earned her another groan from him.

Eventually he'd had enough of the teasing, because he undid the ties on her trousers and wrenched them down, abruptly removing her shoes, trousers, and undercloth within seconds. A few moments later, he'd undone his own trousers and extricated himself. Somehow, keeping some of their clothes on like this made it feel more clandestine and dangerous, enhancing her ardor.

He lifted her leg up around his waist once more and, without preamble, thrust into her fully. Her mouth gaped and she bowed up into him at the sensation. It almost hurt, but the pain diminished immediately once he started moving. He pressed his lips in a trail up her neck, along her chin, and up to meet hers. The kisses didn't last long, though, as his movements inside of her quickened, and he began to express his pleasure vocally. Her name left his mouth repeatedly like whispered prayers, interspersed with swearing and gasps for each thrust.

She loved this side of him, radiated in the fact that he was lost in the euphoria she provided. The muscles of his back rippled with his movements as she ran her hands up and down the smooth skin. Everything felt incredibly better than before. Each slide nudged something in her that had her hips swiveling and raising to take him deeper. He encouraged these movements with little exclamations and groans. It didn't take him long.

He was nearing his end, his head kicking back and his drives into her becoming more forceful. When he couldn't hold on anymore he withdrew quickly. She grabbed him and pumped with her hand as he emptied himself over her stomach and chest. His hips contracted a few more times before he was done and he collapsed onto the bed next to her.

As he recovered she pulled off her shirt and breastband, using them to wipe off her abdomen. Then, she turned on her side to look at him. His eyes were closed, his lips still parted as his breath slowly evened out. It was a moment before he turned to meet her gaze, but when he did he grinned lazily.

"Are you alright?" he asked quietly, reaching over to move a strand of hair out of her face. "I was a bit forceful and you're still new to this."

"Of course I'm fine," she whispered, leaning forward and kissing him hard. "I enjoyed that quite a bit."

His brow furrowed. "But not enough, right?" he asked. "You didn't get your finish, did you?"

She shrugged. "I'm fine. Watching you was..." Her voice drifted off, unable to adequately describe the satisfaction she got from his pleasure.

"Mhm," he sighed, cupping her cheek. "I'll take care of it here in a bit. Just let me recover some."

She chuckled and nodded.

"Come here." He motioned her to turn around.

She did and he fitted himself behind her, wrapping his arm around her.

"It's strange to lie like this when you're still wearing your clothes," she teased. "If I'm bare then you should be too."

He grumbled, but stood from the bed and removed his boots and the rest of his clothing before returning to the bed and curling against her.

They were both silent for a moment, but Kalysta had questions.

"Where did you end up going to wait?" she asked.

"Wolvecaster eventually. I visited my father before that."

Kalysta shuddered. "How was it?"

His arms around her tensed. "He's never been the most understanding, but he was very angry that I left here. In his mind, I should have stayed and put pressure on your father to finalize the treaty before you got well. Then he told me not to come back if I hadn't figure out how to conquer Elysium through diplomacy." His voice was soft and worn when he'd finished speaking.

"I'm so sorry," she whispered, rubbing his arm to comfort him.

"I dealt with it. He'll be happy when I tell him the treaty is finalized and then..." He didn't finish the sentence.

She knew why he'd stopped and she didn't want to talk about it either. That wasn't the point of this. They were supposed to be distracting each other from these worries.

"How have things gone with your father?" he asked carefully, changing the subject.

"It... It was difficult," she admitted. "He confessed that he'd accepted Murdoch's promise of peace as long as he didn't interfere. It's so foolish. He should have known better." She had to stop for a moment and control her emotions. "Part of me wanted it to be a lie, for him to assure me that he'd done nothing of the sort, but the minute I brought it up he was terrified. He's been living in fear for so long and I never even noticed. I have to wonder how many of his decisions lately have been driven by this. Regardless, I told him that he could either leave the ruling to me or I would expose him to the counsel and everyone else. He chose correctly."

"I have a hard time imagining that any man who knows you could successfully stand up to you when you're determined to get your way," he whispered ruefully. "I know from experience."

"You call what you did standing up to me?" she teased. "I had no issue getting you to see my point of view."

"I don't remember it that way. I recall your giving me an ultimatum and a minute to decide whether or not to help you."

She chuckled lowly. "That's not what I'm referring to."

His arm tightened around her. "And what are you referring to exactly? Are you saying I'm easily obtainable?" His voice was a low growl in her ear, making everything in her tense enticingly. "Because that wouldn't be a good idea."

"I think you are easy," she laughed breathlessly. "All it took was a bit of rum and you were willing to tumble me."

His hand drifted up her chest, barely brushing against her nipple before covering her mouth gently. "You're getting a little free with your mouth. I may have to muzzle you."

She bit part of his finger and he hissed a breath in through his teeth. "You wouldn't want to do that," she whispered against his hand. "You like what I do with my mouth."

He hummed in her ear and slid his hand back down her chest, kneading one breast for a moment before drifting further to the junction of her thighs. "I'll be the first to admit that, but I don't think we should be testing that at the moment. Didn't I promise you something?"

Her thighs tightened around his hand in response. "Yes. Let's see if you can hold up your end."

He didn't answer; he simply slid his fingers further down, separating her legs and stroking up and down the juncture. The ache that had dissipated some in the absence of stimuli returned with full force and soon she couldn't control the noises she made. He kissed her neck and nipped at the skin, making her bend her back away from his chest and pushing her bottom against him. His breathing hitched in response and he swirled his fingers in a circle. He found one spot at her cleft and moved his two fingers rapidly against it making her cry out. She was done for. As if trying to prove a point, he pressed in a bit harder and moved his fingers more quickly, eliciting a loud moan from her. Whatever she said about his being easy, she knew who held the real power here. She was helpless before him.

Suddenly, he took her ear lobe between his teeth and bit gently before whispering, "You like to think you're in control, but we know better. You like what I can do, what I make you feel, the way my lips and my fingers touch you, give you everything you want."

She couldn't respond coherently; she was too awash in pleasure so she simply gave an embarrassing whimper. He chuckled softly and returned his lips to her neck, sucking and nipping while he moved his fingers against her. She couldn't help them, the humiliating noises she made, so she simply allowed herself the pleasure of expression. When the burning ache reached its zenith she thought she would expire from the sheer strength of it. The energy spread from deep in her stomach and up her spine, making her clutch his arm in a tight grip and release a hoarse cry of his name. He was relentless, stretching out every ounce of pleasure before she finally collapsed, exhausted.

His moved his hand away and turned her so she was sprawled on her back. Gently, he kissed her lips, her cheek, and along her jaw. She simply lay there, basking in the relaxed state he'd left her in.

When she had fully returned to a rational state of mind, she turned and wrapped her fingers in his hair and returned his kisses with gratitude. Delia had been right. She was incredibly lucky.

As he continued his adoration she could tell that he was aroused once more, the weight of it pressed against her hip. It wouldn't be fair to leave him such a state, so she reached down to take him in her hands again. He hummed against her neck, pressing forward in time with her hand.

"Blast it all, Kalysta," he breathed, "what are you doing to me?"

She pushed against his abdomen to get him to roll off her and onto his back. He did so quickly, clearly eager for whatever she had in mind. "Sit up against the wall," she ordered. His confused look made her giggle, but he did as she said, resting with his back on the wall.

Slowly, she swung a knee over him and straddled his hips. His surprise was evident and for a second he shook his head. "I don't know if this is a good idea," he breathed. "I need to be in control or we're in a lot of trouble." It was the first time he'd shown a hint of trepidation in this regard.

"Just tell me," she responded, kissing him deeply. "Let me know when you're close and I'll take care of it." Now it was her turn, so she leaned in and whispered in his ear, "Do you trust me?"

He shivered and nodded.

It took her a bit of demeaning floundering before she settled in, sliding herself onto him fully and she lost him a few times, but he didn't seem to mind. His hands were tight on her waist, his eyes were closed, and his jaw had dropped open again. She moved her hips carefully, then with more force as her confidence grew, wrapping her hands in his hair. When her rhythm started he opened his eyes and stared up at her, watching as she swayed in front of him. Never had she felt more powerful or beautiful. He seemed to be totally enraptured and she loved it. His hands slid up from her waist to curl behind on her shoulders, pulling her forward. With that, he kissed at her collar and chest, his lips sliding against her skin as he gasped and groaned. At that moment she really missed his facial hair, wondering how good it would feel to have it against her right then, but then he brought a hand forward and lightly pinched a nípplé between his fingers, making her forget all about his beard. The slight pain made her gasp and clench around him. He groaned at the rippling sensation inside her and she wondered just how long he could last like this.

She moved on him more quickly, adjusting her position and gripping the bed frame for support. Sure enough, it was only a bit of this before he grabbed her waist and lifted hurriedly, setting her back a bit and gripping himself to end it. He moved his wrist hastily, panting, and finished, spilling on his hand and the sheets below him as his hips twitched.

She used the blanket to wipe him off before she pulled him to lie down with her again. He indulged her, groaning as he stretched out and let her curl up on his chest. It was quite some time before he spoke up again.

"Kalysta, that..." he stopped as if trying to find the right words.

"I hope it was good enough to suit you for now."

He laughed. "That was more than good enough. If your aim is to haunt me the rest of my days, I will say you are going to be successful."


	74. Two Heirs

Zayn's POV

What constituted love? Was it a choice? Did it spring upon one unawares? Was it determined by someone else? He'd meant it when he had said things were different with her, but it didn't bear discussing vocally. However, he couldn't ignore it at the moment, not with the warmth he basked in while in her presence. Her skin was smooth beneath his fingers, her breathing was soft, and he wished she didn't need to leave.

It would be easy to blame this on a post-coital haze, but he'd felt this before that night on the Partheos. The urge to protect her was indicative of something on its own and now he had to add a bitter jealousy to it. The very thought of Niall coming near her was enough to make him want to hide her away. She feared marrying Niall, but she didn't have nearly the fear she should. It was a terrible thing to think of one's brother, but Niall wasn't the young boy he'd grown up with. Everyone changed with time, but some changed for the worst. He didn't want Niall within a mile of her, yet here he was arranging to put her in the worst possible situation with the man.

She shifted against him, distracting him from his somber mind. He would do anything to protect her. Perhaps he could go to the rulers again, with news of the betrothal this time. That could sway their opinions in Kalysta's favor and show them just how dedicated she was to saving her people and resisting Murdoch. But then some, particularly Thomas, would see it as further proof of Elysium's alliance with Mullingar. Anyone who knew Kalysta even a little bit wouldn't ever consider that she was in league with Murdoch. She wore that innate sense of justice on her sleeve and, however idealistic it was, that crusader inside her made him love her more.

That was what he'd been trying to determine wasn't it? What constituted love? For him, it was that overwhelming need to protect her coupled with the knowledge that she was her own person outside of him; it was the way they lent each other the will to continue in a world where so few joys were allotted to them; it was the way they didn't need to know the other's every thought to be able to comfort them; and it was the way that, through the pain and apprehension of what was to come, she still made him so incredibly happy.

He pulled her in closer to his body at the thought: love. It was a weighty realization that he would have to keep to himself. No good could come from dragging her in deeper. He had this. She cared some for him, of that he was sure. And it would have to suffice.

\--- --- --- --- --- --- ----

Kalysta's POV

She knew she would have to leave soon, but she wanted to enjoy the peaceful feeling he brought her. They were cuddled together under the blanket, his arms around her were warm and there was no way that leaving would ever be easy. It was made worse by the fact that he wasn't falling asleep either. She would actually have to say a parting and she didn't think she could deal with that. She needn't have worried, though.

Zayn was humming in her ear and running a fingertip along her arm when the door was unlocked and Delia stepped inside, shutting the door behind her.

"W-I-Did you need to come in?" Kalysta hissed, sitting up and holding the blanket against her. Zayn was much calmer in his response. He simply sat up straight and placed a hand against her back, physically showing his support.

"Oh, calm yourself, Milady; it's nothing I haven't seen before," Delia replied softly, her tone snarky. "Get up. It's time we leave. We've been here too long as it is."

Kalysta sighed and nodded. She turned to look at Zayn, who simply stared back, his expression calm and strong. They were going to write a marriage treaty tomorrow and they were going to have to be okay with it. She reached over and ran a hand along his cheek before leaning in to kiss him. It could very well be the last time she touched him and the weight of that realization sat heavy with her. He seemed to have come to the same conclusion, for he wrapped his arms around her tightly and deepened the kiss.

Only an impolite cough from Delia separated them. "I'm not saying this in jest, Milady," she added. "We need to leave."

"You're right," Kalysta sighed, throwing back the covers and standing. She refused to look at Zayn while she gathered her clothes. Either she would be embarrassed by the intensity of his gaze while Delia was standing there or she would start crying. Neither option was appealing, so she waited until she'd slipped her hair back up under her cap before she finally looked at him again.

He was still sitting where she'd left him, but the look on his face made her spirit hurt. His eyes were narrowed, his chest rose and fell heavily with guarded emotion, and his hands were tightly balled into fists.

She couldn't stand it, so she turned away toward the door. Goodbyes would have to remain unsaid.

"Wait," he croaked. He threw the blanket from him and stepped off the bed to stoop, rifling through his clothes on the floor. When he found the object he desired he stood, still bare but unembarrassed, and walked over to her.

"This is for you," he murmured, holding out the flask he'd let her borrow on the ship. "I-It was my mother's. I want you to have it."

Kalysta gasped. "I can't accept this!"

He shook his head and forced it into her hands. "Just take it. The next few weeks are going to be difficult and... when you look at it I want you to remember that you're not alone in this. However it may seem, you're not alone." He finished and looked down at his empty hands.

Kalysta almost cried. They weren't saying goodbye, but they might as well have been. She grabbed him and pulled him to her for another kiss. No words could articulate how she felt about his gesture. She knew how important this was to him and she tried to express that in the kiss.

"Milady," Delia hissed.

Kalysta pulled away and fled out the door. Maybe if she moved quickly enough she could leave the tears and pain behind.

"Wait!" Delia called softly as they ascended the hill in the remaining darkness. "Stop running."

Kalysta only slowed a bit.

Delia hurried and kept pace with her, sighing. "I'm sorry, Milady."

"For what?"

"Slow down."

Kalysta did, giving up on fleeing her emotions.

"I'm sorry for what I insinuated about the man," Delia confessed. "I didn't realize the depth of... or the way..." Her voice drifted for a moment. "I almost can't be angry with you for jumping in bed with him the minute we left you alone. And I am sincere when I say how sorry I am. Perhaps in another time you could be together."

"And what good does that do us right now?" Kalysta snorted, her pain morphing into anger.

"Nothing; I know that." Delia was quiet then until they reached the rooms. "Just know that I understand and I'm sorry for your pain."

Kalysta sighed, getting back into her bed clothes. She could get a few more hours of sleep before she had to be up. Though, she wasn't sure how much sleep she would get.

"Good night, Milady," Delia whispered. "Try to rest."

Kalysta couldn't answer past the lump in her throat, so she simply turned over and let her pillow soak in the tears that had finally caught up with her.

\--- --- --- --- --- ---

The morning came too soon. Everything in her was tempted to simply stay in bed and post-pone the meeting. Her heart hurt and she wanted to be alone.

Somehow, Delia was functional despite having as little sleep as Kalysta had. "It's time, Milady," she announced, moving about and setting Kalysta's clothing up. "It'd reflect poorly on you if you overslept today."

Kalysta scoffed derisively, but got out of bed to ready herself. There was no point in prolonging the inevitability of this meeting and what would be accomplished. She was saving her people from a sure destruction; she had to keep reminding herself of that.

When she sat in the council chambers she was soon joined by five of her advisors and her father. Studiously, she avoided looking at him. Her anger was in rare form that morning and speaking with him would only create more problems.

He sat down next to her and cleared his throat. "Kalysta, I want to take a moment to apologize," he said quietly. "I have not always done what is right in your eyes. But I want to thank you and commend you for your dedication to this country and our people. I regret that I haven't served them as well as I had hoped."

"Now is not the time, Father," she responded quietly. "We'll talk about it later." She couldn't manage anything else. His apology was coming much too late.

The doors opened and Zayn entered, joined by five people in his retinue, of which Louis was conspicuously absent. His face was harsh and angry. He took a minute to look at them all scornfully before sitting directly across from Kalysta.

She took his example and looked at him with all the hate she could muster. With the foul mood she was in, it wasn't much of a stretch.

"Ambassador, it's time we finalized this treaty," she opened. "I have fully recovered from my illness and I see nothing to hinder our negotiations from coming to a close today.

"Elysium is prepared to offer a diplomatic solution that benefits us both," she continued. "Upon my marrying your Prince Niall, he will become both my husband and the next in line to rule this country. However, I have some stipulations if you are agreeable to compromise."

Zayn scoffed and shook his head. "What need have I for compromise? The way your family has run this country is laughable. You need direction, which my brother and father can provide. What else needs discussing?"

"Elysium retains its sovereignty," Kalysta snapped unapologetically. "Prince Niall and King Murdoch may have input and sway in our political movements, but I will have the final word. Officially, Elysium will become a city-state, much as Bradford has. Provided that I have two sons, the first will be Prince Niall's heir to rule Mullingar and the second will be my heir, to rule Elysium. We all get what we want."

Zayn's eyes narrowed as he considered her words. She hadn't told him any of this beforehand because she wanted his reaction to be as genuine as possible. "And in the event your defective familial line comes through and you fail to produce two heirs? What then?"

It was blatantly rude. Never before had he said something cruel. It was Mullingar in his speech, but it drove her crazy regardless.

"In that case, I believe Elysium could be annexed into Mullingar. However, that would only be in the event of my death from natural causes, having failed to bear two sons." Saying that prevented their gaining Elysium through her death by questionable circumstances.

Zayn leaned back and smiled. It wasn't a grin of pleasure, but more a baring of his teeth. With these stipulations, Mullingar couldn't simply take over. Kalysta would have time to develop another plan while everyone waited to see if she was able to keep her side of the bargain. He wasn't pleased, at least his persona of the Ambassador wasn't pleased. She couldn't be sure how he felt personally.

"You are on shaky ground, Princess, but I think I can agree with these terms," he said. "Call in your scribes and we'll draft it. Remember, though, that none of this is valid until it has been signed by both my father and my brother. If they disagree upon the presentation of the treaty then new rules will have to be agreed upon."

"I sincerely hope they don't have issue with it, but in that event a new treaty can be drafted. I will personally travel to Mullingar with our ambassador, Duke Crothers, and we will extend this treaty." The Duke nodded, agreeing to the journey without being asked. "Any objections can be addressed at that time. Are you amenable to this?"

Again, Zayn narrowed his eyes and scrutinized them all. "It will do for now. When will you be leaving?"

"I will need several days to gather supplies and the proper retinue," she answered. "If you can agree to take us aboard your ships, the trip will be much faster. Otherwise, we will be traveling by land and we will arrive much later."

He was silent for some time as if considering the benefits of a speedy resolution with the idea of having a group of Elysians aboard his ship.

Kalysta hoped he would leave them to traveling on land. It would be dangerous to have her around his crew again. Any slip, any man acknowledging prior acquaintance with her and there would be too much suspicion to brush off.

"I need to consider some of these points further. I will bring you my decision tomorrow." He didn't ask questions or ask permission, he simply told her what would happen.

"Very well." Kalysta motioned to one of the guards standing by the door. "Please send for the scribes."

It was a simple matter to draft the proposal. They were a few tense moments caused by the points she had included in her stipulations, but overall the experience was relatively painless.

"I believe that concludes our negotiations for today," Kalysta expressed.

"Yes, indeed." Zayn stood. "I'll give you my decision tomorrow." With that, he turned and left, snubbing them by failing to bow or acknowledge their authority before his parting. When the last of his men had exited, Kalysta breathed a sigh of relief. That part was over at least.

"Milady, that was inspired!" one council member breathed. "If Murdoch agrees then we're in a much better position than we expected."

"Thank you," Kalysta acknowledge before turning to one of the council women. "Lady Elizabeth, I hope I have not offended you by stating Duke Crothers as our Ambassador. You rightfully hold that office and at any other time I would gladly recognize you, but in Mullingar they will be looking for things to hold against us. I felt it better to have Duke Crothers step in, but I failed to extend this to you prior to this meeting."

Elizabeth shook her head. "I understand completely. We are the ones at a disadvantage here, so anything that can help us I stand behind."

"We are finished for now, then, council. I believe we should meet again tonight, without the Mullingan troop, to discuss options for lessening Murdoch's authority after the marriage. Good day, and I will see you all this evening, around the eighteenth hour." She bowed stood and bowed.

Instead of waiting for their leave, she left first herself. She needed to be alone and she didn't want to speak with her father at the moment. Though she was saving her country, she couldn't help thinking that she'd just signed her life away.


	75. Mad King

The meeting that evening didn't take long. She spoke to the council merely of holding Mullingar at bay as long as possible, and they all agreed with her tactics. As a rule, most Elysians were cautious, so she couldn't press them into a plan that was too aggressive. She would make her own plans in regards to the Prince, though, and what they didn't know wouldn't hurt them.

After the meeting, she was called into the audience room to hear a messenger from Zayn. Instead of coming himself, he had relegated the duty to someone else. Overall, it was probably for the best since seeing him was so difficult.

The 'someone else' turned out to be Mahir. He came into the audience chamber and stopped before her, his face unreadable, and his manner indifferent. Once more she was struck by how good these men were at concealing emotions and thoughts. He kneeled smoothly and rose once more.

"Good evening, Representative," Kalysta greeted him. "I believe you have news from your Ambassador?"

"Yes, Your Highness," Mahir replied. "He regrets to inform you that he is unable to transport you aboard his ship at this time."

Kalysta scoffed. "You mean to inform me that your Ambassador would rather I take weeks to reach Mullingar than take us aboard?"

"He believes his ship, the Partheos, to be unsuitable for a Princess and her entourage," Mahir continued. His lip twitched visibly, as if he were masking a smile, but Kalysta knew he'd shown it to her on purpose. She almost laughed herself, for the irony of that excuse was not lost on her.

"I find it ridiculous that an Ambassador representing King Murdoch would travel in a vessel so unfit," she complained, keeping up the charade, "but since I have no choice I will be traveling by land to visit your King. He can thank your Ambassador for the delay in negotiations."

Mahir bowed.

"You are dismissed," Kalysta ordered, "but let it be known that I am displeased with the Ambassador's lack of cooperation."

"It will be mentioned," Mahir allowed, bowing again and exiting.

Kalysta stood and followed her guards out the back of the audience chambers. She hid another smile as she thought about the excuse again. Zayn was still finding ways to delay her marriage and she wished she could thank him.

\--- --- --- --- --- ---

Preparing the journey was a task she found exhausting and tedious. She wasn't particularly adept at such organizational matters and getting together all the supplies for so many people was daunting. It was a wonder Zayn managed to do it for an entire ship's crew. But then, most sailors weren't as particular about sleeping arrangements and food preferences as nobles were.

On top of it all, she actually dreaded this trip. Before, when she'd left with Zayn, she'd had hope, a sense of purpose even. Now, it was quite the opposite. Dread was the prevailing emotion. She was going to do exactly what she'd just traveled around the continent to avoid. Despair and failure were all she could comprehend.

She didn't see Zayn anymore, as there was no excuse to meet with him and it was too dangerous to sneak away to see him again. Neither was there time for such things. In the next few days she would be leaving. Likely, she would return home with her betrothed. Before the next month she'd be married for sure.

Eventually, the potency of her despair made her throw herself into the preparations. Only by getting lost in the fine details could she ignore what she strove toward.

The day arrived and Kalysta was understandably loathe to leave. She said goodbyes to her family in private and then the city turned out to see them off, much as they'd done for troops going to war, though that'd been a long time ago. A marriage was supposed to be a joyous affair, but no one cheered her departure. They almost seemed to be calling encouragement to her, even if they couldn't see her. She rode in a covered carriage, which was surrounded by guards on horses. Duke Crothers and his wife were in the carriage with her, as was Delia.

She tried not to be a bore, but she simply wasn't in the mood to talk. Luckily, Duke Crothers and his wife were actually quite progressive, so they spoke with Delia most of the first day, leaving Kalysta to her somber thoughts.

Apart from the deluge of spring rain, the trip wasn't memorable. As it was, their carriage got stuck several time and they were forced to step out as the servants and guards took care of it. They stopped at towns for the evenings, but Kalysta didn't get to interact with the people very much. She was given the best rooms, a bath every evening, and the most expensive food available. She couldn't help comparing it to her previous trip. Between the two, even with all the relative affluence she was afforded this time, she would rather have been traveling with Zayn in disguise.

Zayn's POV

They couldn't very well travel together, but that didn't mean he couldn't be at Mullingar around the same time she was. She didn't know his family like he did. He needed to be there, as a buffer if nothing else.

Though he'd traveled by land from Wolvecaster, he'd ordered the ship be brought just offshore of Westtown. It was probably waiting there for him already, so when the news went out of the Princess's departure, he made his way to the coast.

If he couldn't protect her in every way, he'd protect her wherever he could.

Kalysta's POV

When they reached King's City about midafternoon, Kalysta felt a mess. The trip had taken two weeks; two weeks of moaning nobles, trapped carriages, and dreading what was to come. Now that they'd arrived, she was anxious with fear.

Luckily, they were allowed to rest before she was expected to make her appearance before the royal family. She was treated well, bathed in floral-smelling water, and given sweet treats to tide her over until the welcoming banquet that evening. She wasn't exactly sure how they knew the time of her visit, but apparently, if given enough preparation time, the banquets put on by the royal family were a thing to behold. Kalysta was regaled by the servants of all the foods that would present and all the important people attending.

It crossed her mind, seeing the people of Mullingar more closely, that one could tell without knowing history and just by looking, that Elysium and Mullingar had been closely related, from the same ancestors, with pale skin, and sharply contrasting hair. Their accents differed, the inflections varying in places, but everything else was scarily similar. The thought was disheartening, because she wondered how two nations with such ties could have drifted so far apart.

The servants, Delia included, helped her into an extravagant dress, which felt perfectly designed to prevent her fleeing if the need arose. Several layers of petticoats weren't all; a multi-buttoned bodice meant she'd need servants to help her undress and the high collar and long sleeves meant she'd be uncomfortably warm all evening. More and more she was becoming irritated rather than nervous.

The meal was set to start in the early evening, so when the time came she was escorted by the Duke and Duchess Crothers to the banquet area.

They came into view and the banquet hall doors were wide open, allowing entrance to anyone who could produce an invitation. For a horrid minute, Kalysta wondered if they'd be forced to endure some humiliation or refusal of admittance to their own welcoming banquet on the grounds that they didn't have specific invitations. She worried needlessly. Their descriptions were apparently given ahead of time, because the announcer next to the doors hurried to them immediately, greeting them.

"Ambassador, Princess, welcome to King's City. Follow me please." In doing this, he partially snubbed Duchess Crothers by excluding her, but Kalysta had expected something similar. A duchess wasn't a high enough title to negate the fact that she was a woman.

The announcer led them to stand on the threshold and then tamped a tall, wooden scepter on the ground. It made a thunderous noise, effectively silencing the hall and bringing all attention to them.

"Presenting the representatives from Elysium, Ambassador Crothers of Sharon, and Princess Kalysta of the house Dubhainn." He hit the scepter again and then Duke Crothers was leading Kalysta and the Duchess forward.

The only way Kalysta was going to survive the overwhelming number of eyes on her was if she found the King and the Prince and focused on them. Mullingans would neither respect nor enjoy any sign of independence on a woman's part, no matter her standing. Considering that, she adopted the necessary persona of a quiet, unassuming woman who was content to have men rule her.

The men seated at the Royal table were an imposing sight. She said men, because the only woman present at the table was the Queen, Rowen, and her bearing was demoralizing. The woman held herself timidly, diffident in her seat beside Murdoch, staring at the table and not looking around her. It made Kalysta sick to contemplate the life the woman most likely had to lead.

Murdoch was as formidable and menacing as she remembered him to be. The king was dressed impeccably, and the look of sanctimonious satisfaction reconciled every rumor she'd heard and every thought she'd ever had about him. More than that was the sheer madness she saw in his eyes. Much as an animal could sense debilitating illness in a counterpart, she was acutely aware of the rabidity in his gaze.

Looking at Niall was only a little less daunting. He had come of age just the year before, so he was but two years older than her, twenty total. She could see the same hardness, the same severity in his gaze, though he lacked the madness of his father's. As well, he lacked the power in his bearing, but she supposed that would come with time as he matured fully and filled out.

The other men were far lesser in demeanor and appearance, but none gave her a look of welcome. Their every gaze was cold, calculating, or lecherous, and she couldn't decide which worried her most.

"Welcome," Murdoch boomed. His voice inexplicably achieved both volume and a threatening growl. "Ambassador and Princess Kalysta, welcome to Mullingar."

"Thank you, Your Majesty," Duke Crothers responded. "It is an honor and a pleasure to be your guest here on behalf of His Majesty King Jonathan to arrange a mutually beneficial agreement between our nations."

"An honor?" Murdoch feigned surprise. "And a pleasure? Well, yes, I assume it would be after so long in a declining state. You've never left Elysium before, have you, Ambassador? It seems strange, your sudden promotion, when you've had no dealings with the other nations."

It was bad; very bad. Murdoch had simultaneously stated his low opinion of Elysium while letting them know he was wholly aware that the Duke was not the originally appointed Ambassador for Elysium. He wasn't going to mess about. Where there had been political maneuvering involved when Zayn was negotiating, Murdoch battered past it all, heedless of any consequences. And he could get away with it, for what could Kalysta do about it? She was well and truly subject to the whims of this man.

He had the upper hand and Kalysta couldn't breathe for the comprehension of her own absolute inadequacy.


	76. Family Resemblance

"We've prepared this banquet in your honor," Murdoch continued. "Join us at the royal table and have repast."

Duke Crothers led them forward to the table, stepping up to the seats Murdoch gestured toward, ones positioned directly across from the royal family.

Kalysta did her best to breathe, but between the restricting dress and the tension of the situation she felt faint. She lowered her gaze and took her seat as a servant pushed the chair in behind her. Immediately, her plate was filled with delicate meats, caramelized fruits, and dishes she couldn't identify.

Remembering what Zayn had said when they first met, she remained silent. It would be poor planning to antagonize the people straightaway. Even if their customs were outdated and horrific, she would do her best to adhere to them.

"Ambassador Crothers," the King started, not even letting them get properly settled into their meal, "why did you replace the original ambassador from Elysium?" It was ridiculous that he was so blatant and unashamed in his line of inquiry.

"It was deemed to be more productive if I represented our nation," Crothers answered. "While we may not agree on every point, King Jonathan thought it would be best to cater to your desires, particularly keeping in mind what these negotiations will produce. Some parameters of our country's ways will be in need of altering, and what better time to start than now?" He finished speaking and sat stiffly, leaving his food untouched and gripping his armrests tightly.

"So diplomatic!" Murdoch gasped mockingly. "It's a wonder you weren't made Ambassador in the first place!" He took a dainty bite of his food. "Answer me this, though." His voice took on an edge now. "How is it that my dear nephew's body came to be found in a small village on the outskirts of my kingdom?"

Kalysta bit her tongue to keep from giving a visual response to the question. It seemed Murdoch's suspicious nature made him question what had really happened to Hayden. William would have been sure to make it seem like a bandit raid, but Murdoch was known for his paranoia.

"I'm not sure what you're insinuating, Your Majesty," Crothers answered carefully. "I know nothing of your nephew, unfortunately, but I am sorry to hear of his passing." At least he could say that honestly.

Now Kalysta was glad for the feigned deference as it gave her an excuse to avoid eye contact with the Mullingans.

"That's strange, but my son gave a similarly vague response." His paranoia wasn't limited to outsiders, then. He scared her the more he talked. "Zayn, what did you tell me in regards to Hayden again? Wasn't he supposed to be in your care?"

Kalysta stopped breathing entirely. She hadn't even noticed Zayn she'd been so focused on Murdoch. It was lucky happenstance, though, for looking at him would surely betray her feelings. She wasn't that good an actress.

"As I said, Father, Hayden refused to follow my instructions," Zayn sighed. His voice was arrogant, but it was still the most welcome sound in the world. He was here; she wasn't alone. "He almost ruined our negotiations by breaking Elysium capital law and when I reprimanded him for it, he left. The gods witness me that the last I saw of him he was flouting my implicit orders, but he was also perfectly safe. Before the Princess turned ill, he had left King's City Haven for places unknown. It's a tragic loss, to be sure, but I've apologized to Uncle Adrian for not looking after Hayden more clearly. I take full responsibility for this regrettable incident."

"Speaking of the illness," Murdoch said, changing the subject abruptly, "Princess, do tell us what that was all about."

Kalysta took a steadying breath. "It was an unfortunate case of lung fever, Your Majesty," she replied. "With rest and good care I am quite recovered."

"You may raise your eyes, Princess." His voice sounded almost genial at the moment. "You need not follow the mannerisms of my wife. She defied a direct order of mine and therefore her eyes are lowered before us all. You, however, are our guest. Come, let us have a look at what is being offered to further my line."

She was livid. Her jaw hurt from clenching so hard, but she raised her head enough to meet Murdoch's gaze. The look there made her almost wish she hadn't, though.

He gazed on her as though she were a piece of livestock, assessing her face clinically. "Yes, son, she would pass on good traits to your heirs," he continued, nudging the Prince who was seated next to him and directly across from Kalysta.

She looked at Niall, wondering what he would say in response. His eyes on her were worse than his father's; Niall was looking at her in a manner that would have been called 'appreciative' if his full analyzation of her upper body hadn't factored in.

"Yes, Father, I believe you're right," Niall said. His voice didn't carry much weight, but his accent was heavier. "Now that I've seen her I'm much more agreeable to this marriage treaty."

Kalysta had to swallow the bile that rose in her throat as her stomach churned in revulsion. His perusal was foul and his offhand comments were worse. She wasn't sure she could stand being around them long enough for the treaty to be signed.

Murdoch laughed uproariously. "Ah, my son, so easily satisfied with the first mare paraded in front of you! Well, enough of this political talk! This is a celebration! Let us start the dancing!"

Music swelled abruptly, a swift promenade, and Kalysta turned to look behind her as people rose from their seats to converge on the floor in the middle of the hall. They formed into two lines, men on one side and women on the other. As the dance started, she noticed that it was one similar to a dance in Elysium, but more stilted. The women were the more active participants and the men simply assisted, or turned as the women moved around them. It included minimal touching, limited to the hands, and there didn't seem to be any joy in the dancing.

When that particular dance was over, the music slowed some and people were choosing individual partners. This dance involved a bit more contact between the pairs, but not much.

"Princess," Niall spoke up. "I would be pleased if you would join me in this dance."

Kalysta would rather have been bitten by a venomous snake, but she nodded and said, "Of course, Prince Niall, I would be honored."

A servant pulled back her seat and she stood, moving away from the table and waiting for Niall to join her.

He came out from his side of the table and held out his arm. When she rested her hand on it he led her to the floor.

She almost convulsed when he placed a hand on her waist. Her skin itched like bugs were running across it, but she held onto her composure, barely. It took everything in her not to run through the main doors, though she doubted she'd make it far anyway, what with her dreadful attire and full petticoats. She focused then on keeping in step with Niall and not stumbling on the heaviness of her dress.

"Well, Kalysta, I had not expected to find you quite so demure," Niall pointed out. "It's refreshingly opposite the reports I received of your temperament."

"Thank you, Prince," she whispered. She looked down in a semblance of reserved calm, but really she knew she wouldn't be able to keep the anger from her face.

"You will call me Niall," he said, giving her a command instead of a choice of preference. "We are most likely to be married, after all." He pulled her closer and she felt his lean body against hers, highly improper if anyone had the nerve to call him out on it. His hand on her waist gripped tightly and she felt sick. "We fit well," he murmured. "Our marriage will be a good one."

She couldn't respond. If she opened her mouth she would really vomit, she was sure. He was judging their marriage quality based on his own pleasure at her physical attributes. It was disgusting and vile and she was so fully repulsed by him.

The song stretched on much longer than she would have wished, but when it was done, a hand grabbed Niall's shoulder.

"Nephew, could I cut in?" It was a man she didn't recognize, but it was most likely the uncle, Adrian, whose son she'd had killed. "We get so few new faces here, and even fewer so pretty."

If he was anything like his son, this man wasn't going to be any better than Niall.

"Of course, Uncle," Niall nodded, gripping her hand and passing it to the man.

The uncle took it and adopted a stance similar to what Niall had, but much more proprietary, leading her in a dance like the last.

"Good evening, Princess," he said, smiling at her. "My brother was unfortunately rude and did not introduce us. My name is Adrian. It's an incredible pleasure to meet you." His face was actually quite pleasant, as was his voice. She couldn't understand how they were all related. The family resemblance was there, in the face, but the mannerisms were completely different. Adrian had deeper blue eyes, wrinkles that told of genuine smiles, and an elegance that was not held by either the king or the prince. He held himself with pride, not arrogance, and it was easy to see he was a buffer to Murdoch's madness. Perhaps not all of the royal family was as crazy as she had come to believe.

She finally found her voice to respond. "Good evening, Your... Your Highness." She stumbled over her words, unsure how to address him.

"You can simply call me Adrian," he said earnestly.

She didn't want to admit it, but he put her at ease. "Thank you, Adrian." With nothing more she could think to say, she fell silent and focused on a spot of his shoulder to stare.

"It can't be easy coming here," Adrian continued, "and it must be equally difficult going through with such a treaty."

He was being remarkably forthright, but she had no clue how to answer. Was he trying to make her say something negative about Mullingar or her view on the treaty?

"That's alright," he sighed, "you don't have to say anything; simply listen. I am very invested in making this treaty work out. I have heard news of the ways you have behaved in the past and I would strongly recommend that you continue with the character you have adopted thus far in our presence. One slip-up could cost us our hard work and put my brother in a foul enough mood that he won't be talked out of anything short of war. Be cautious, forget your pride, and this should resolve favorably."

With that, he was silent, spinning them around and focusing fully on the dance.

He was a puzzle, to be sure. He gave her advice, but whose side was he on actually? Surely Zayn would have mentioned if his uncle were part of the resistance!

She was confused; confused, overwhelmed, and wallowing in her own inadequacy.


	77. Finalization

That song ended and, after thanking Adrian for the dance, she tried to make her way back to the table. She was intercepted by Duke Crothers, though.

"Princess Kalysta," he greeted, holding out his hand, "would you allow me the pleasure of this dance?"

She agreed and felt herself relax just a bit as they moved about the floor. They were dancing the Elysian style so she was much more familiar with the moves and didn't have to focus quite as hard at keeping in time.

"I thought to give you a reprieve," he voiced quietly. "Constantly dancing with them must be putting you on edge. I hope to interject myself when possible to keep their presence from getting to overwhelming for you."

"Thank you," she answered sincerely. "I'm glad to have such a conscientious and mindful representative here with me. You do Elysium proud."

The Duke smiled kindly. "If it's not too impertinent of me, I would say the same for you. Not many could have handled the threat of war coupled with grave illness so well."

She bowed her head slightly in thanks and then took the opportunity of ease to inspect the room.

Though Murdoch had raised his voice for the dancing, he had not joined in at all. He and Queen Rowen remained at the table, watching the crowd. Adrian was dancing with a woman Kalysta assumed was another higher noble since he was a widower, though she did not know the woman by appearance to say who she was for sure. 

Unbidden, her eyes moved to the next closest dancing pair, which turned out to be Zayn and Duchess Crothers. He moved elegantly and it was clear that he was being authentically charming, for the Duchess was laughing a real laugh and Kalysta could see Zayn's full smile stretch across his face. It was such a lovely, welcome sight that she didn't want to look away.

But she forced herself, knowing that showing her feelings wasn't an option. She considered the other people instead. Assessing everyone, she couldn't help but notice the richness the Mullingan people displayed. They weren't as well-to-do as those in Cheshire, but it still surprised Kalysta that any but the royal family could afford mink furs, from an animal found only in Velia and Cheshire and very expensive to procure.

Another aspect she perceived was the mood of the people. They weren't particularly joyful, but neither were they morose. They showed emotions, unlike some of the other nations, but those emotions were muted in comparison. Kalysta wondered after it.

The next song she was surprised, and covertly pleased, to see Zayn approach her for a dance. She tried to keep her wits about her and school her expression into one of pained tolerance.

"Princess, may I take you for a turn this round?" His voice was brusque and simple.

"Yes, I suppose, Ambassador." She was pleased to find her own voice to be unemotional and steady.

He reached for her, but held her at a safe distance, much as Adrian had.

"What are you doing?" she asked quietly, barely moving her mouth. "We're meant to be keeping our cover."

"Yes, and would it not look suspicious if I danced with the rest of the visiting nobles and not you?" he mused.

She felt the heat rise in her face.

"Just keep that disgruntled look and don't be trying to give me a fondle during the dance," he teased softly.

The corners of her mouth lifted and she had to tamp down a smile.

"Tsk, none of that," he reprimanded, his face perfectly smooth. "You need to look annoyed, or bothered at least. Why don't you bring to mind that my imbecile father likened you to a horse?"

That had the desired effect, for her face pinched in anger and she fought to keep from bursting.

"We'll just ignore the fact that you would most likely kick him harder than a horse would, if given the chance," he murmured.

Once more, she kept a smile from her face. She wanted to relax in his grasp, for this was the first time she'd felt like herself all day. Being with him was easy, but she held up her air of vexation and her stiff posture as they turned about on the floor.

"I saw you with the Duchess," she muttered, choosing to tease him back, "and I'm starting to think you just flit around to different nobles and royals. It makes a girl feel like a very common flower."

Zayn bared his teeth like he was pained, but when he met her eyes, his lit up at her comment.

"All flowers are beautiful," he asserted, "but some make an indelible impact and suddenly the others don't hold one's attention. Then, one keeps waiting for the season when that flower is back for admiring. Winter is such a terrible time in that case."

His joke made her heart ache, for it revealed that he was as invested as she, and as discouraged by their forced separation. She longed to be held by him properly, to forget about duty and live the life she wanted. Though she kept such melancholy thoughts from being displayed on her face, he sensed her mood anyway.

"My apologies," he pressed softly. "I didn't mean to spoil the mood."

She shook her head and fixed an angry expression on her face again. "No, don't apologize. I seem to be permanently afflicted by a bad mood."

"The times perpetuate that," he sighed.

The song was over then, and Kalysta was left feeling bereaved when he released her, bowed, and moved away into the crowd. A faster tune began and the people formed into lines once more. Kalysta made her way back to the table, uninterested in participating if she wasn't obliged.

Most everyone else was dancing except for the Queen, Murdoch, Adrian, and a smattering of others at the different tables. They sat at the table as well, watching the dancers, and keeping blessedly quiet. She remained silent too, waiting for the horrid evening to end.

Eventually, Murdoch stood and announced he was taking his leave. Either he was the supposed life of the event or else it was an unspoken order that no one could leave the party until he did, for the minute he'd exited the banquet hall with the Queen it was like everyone rushed out at once. Kalysta suspected it was the latter.

Duke Crothers came to escort her back to her rooms after the clamor of the exodus had died down some. "Come, Princess," he prompted, "it's a big day for us tomorrow."

She stood and took the arm not already held by the Duchess. "Yes, Ambassador, you're right," she sighed.

As they walked, Crothers broached the subject of the meeting. "Princess, I have my doubts that they will acknowledge you as carrying any authority in the meeting tomorrow," he confessed. "At the very least, they won't take your decision as final."

Kalysta mulled it over in her mind. "I suspect you're right. What are you planning, then?" He wouldn't have brought it up if he hadn't been considering it already.

"I simply thought that we could agree upon signals ahead of time that will indicate either your approval or rejection of whatever is being discussed."

She was pleasantly surprised with his ingenuity. "Ambassador, I believe that's a marvelous idea."

"I have a general concept of what your father wants and how you wish to execute those plans, but I don't want to assume anything."

"Thank you," she whispered, patting his arm earnestly. "I'm quite glad you joined me on this trip. I don't know where I'd be if not for you and your wife."

They stopped at her rooms. "As far as the signals go, I will tap my cheek for approval and slide my thumb down my nose for rejection," she offered. "Does that work for you?"

"Yes, Your Highness." He bowed and the Duchess curtsied. "Have a good evening. I pray you sleep well."

"You as well."

She entered her room and was bombarded by the maids waiting for her. They were there to help her ready for sleep, one said. But they insisted on chattering to her about the entire evening. It seemed strange that they were so vocal in front of a stranger, but she supposed they didn't get much time to talk in their homes, at least not judging by what she knew of Mullingan men. So she suffered through their incessant babbling about how beautiful she had looked and how the men of the royal family hadn't been able to keep their eyes off of her.

Finally, they were done and she was free to climb into the incredibly large bed. Delia was able to get a word in as the Mullingan servants filed out.

"Heavens, they could talk a woman into an early grave," she complained, reaching behind Kalysta's head to fluff pillows that had already been thrice fluffed. "What did you learn this evening, Milady?"

Kalysta pondered it, then said simply, "I was right to fear marrying into this family."

"Surely it wasn't all bad?"

"The king is mad, Delia, well and truly mad." Kalysta covered her face with her hands. "He's also vulgar, pretentious, and disgusting. The Prince is only better in that he hasn't had the chance to go mad quite yet, but he's equally vulgar. Also, it seems the inability to keep proprietary distance is an inherited Mullingan trait shared by both Hayden and Niall. The only non-disgusting royal was the uncle, Adrian. He's... interesting, mannerly and he seemed interested in helping me work out a solution to my benefit, but I don't know how involved he is in resisting his brother."

"Be careful, Milady," Delia cautioned. "More than one person has met their doom by running their mouth without testing a situation first."

"Of course. I won't say anything unless he does."

"Good. Now get some rest."

Delia patted her shoulder before moving to blow out the candles lighting the room.

It was some time before Kalysta was able to relax enough to sleep.

Sometime in the night she dreamed that Zayn was singing to her and, when the servants woke her for breakfast in bed the next morning, she had to swipe fast tears from her cheeks.

\--- --- --- --- ---

The Duke came and gathered her for the treaty meeting around midday. This time, Delia had been the only one assisting her in getting dressed, so she wore one of her own outfits and was much more comfortable for it. By Elysian standards, the dress was quite modest, but she had noticed the severity of fashion here and it would most likely be just on the edge of being considered appropriate. Her neck was fully exposed, but her collar bones were concealed, so they couldn't be too unhappy with her.

She focused on keeping her breathing even as they made their way through the halls following a servant. They wouldn't require her direct input, so she would only be observing and guiding Duke Crothers where necessary.

When they entered the meeting room, she was astounded. There were many women present, but not at the main table. The room was circular and held a large circular table in the middle. The women were seated in chairs around the edge of the room while the men sat in the places of import, at the table. Upon their entrance, the people rose from their seats, the first sign of respect that had been paid to her in the time she'd been there.

"Princess, Ambassador, welcome," Murdoch said from where he stood. "Please take the empty seats and we will begin."

Kalysta found hers next to the Queen and sat beside her silently. It was good that she was positioned where she could see both the King and Duke Crothers. Sensing the mood of the King could help her make decisions and know when to press her luck.

"Ambassador, my son has told me some of the arrangements that have been... requested by Elysium. I would hear them in full now." He was a completely different person now, almost rational and courteous.

"Thank you, Your Majesty," Crothers said cordially. He took a deep breath before beginning.

"King Jonathan has heard your concerns as to the running of his kingdom, expressed by your Ambassador Zayn. He is willing to accept your concern and acknowledge that your guidance would be beneficial. Having said that, he desires that Elysium retain its sovereignty." Crothers was doing well, speaking as if this was all her father's instruction instead of hers. "The marriage is very beneficial to both our nations. Under it, we will allow that Elysium becomes a city-state to Mullingar, subject to laws deemed necessary by both rulers. You would hold ultimate sway in all major decisions made, though Elysian royalty would hold ruling rights in all lesser matters. Prince Niall would become the rightful heir to Elysium upon marrying our Princess Kalysta, though we are aware that he still has responsibilities to Mullingar. We would solve this by proposing that the first son borne of this union be the next in line for the throne of Mullingar, while the second son would inherit sovereignty of Elysium. Your line would rule in both countries and any decline in Elysium's standing would be halted with the help of your attention and the guidance of your son who has been molded and shaped under your wisdom."

Kalysta almost laughed. Crothers was much better at this than she could have given him credit for. He was buttering Murdoch up nicely. As she watched, she could almost see the King swell with his arrogant self-satisfaction.

"In the event that the Princess passes of natural causes, having failed to produce two male heirs, King Jonathan agrees that Elysium will be annexed into Mullingar fully and be subject to all laws and rulings held here.

"Thank you for your attention, Your Majesty, representatives."

Crothers sat carefully and waited.

"That was quite eloquent, Ambassador," Murdoch voiced. Kalysta couldn't identify the difference, but his mood had perceptibly changed. "I can agree to all those terms but one. We're supposed to wait the entirety of the Princess's lifetime for her to produce heirs? I think not. Instead, let it be established that if the Princess fails to produce two fit male children in three years of the marriage, Elysium loses its rights to sovereignty, becomes a part of Mullingar, and the Princess will be put away as inadequate. Niall will then be in charge of both countries and he can choose a new wife."

The evil, conniving ass was backing her into a corner. Everything would rest on her entirely in this scenario. If they couldn't get a resistance organized and she didn't produce two heirs in the allotted time, she would be handing her country over to Murdoch without a fight.

"Well, Ambassador?" Murdoch pressed, his voice full of venom. "What does Elysium answer to this?"

Crothers's eyes flitted to Kalysta and she forced herself to make a quick decision. If they rejected the terms, there was no knowing how Murdoch would react. He was unpredictable, mad, and she didn't want to count on the possibility of a good mood for the safety of her person or her country.

Kalysta tapped her cheek quickly lest Murdoch grow too impatient.

"I speak for Elysium and we agree to these terms," Crothers spoke up. "Let the treaty be redrafted and signed by all parties necessary."

"Niall, are you agreeable to the terms of your marriage to Princess Kalysta of Elysium?" Murdoch asked, looking to Niall.

"Aye," Niall said, nodding. "I agree." He looked to Kalysta then. "What of you, Princess? We will need your signature for a marriage treaty as well.

She'd already agree; this wasn't another decision. But it felt like it. She'd already agreed. She'd already agreed.

"I agree," she said with finality.


	78. Let Go

"That finishes the negotiations then," Murdoch announced. "I will allow the wedding to be in Elysium after your customs, though, I... ask that it be within the month. I don't want any delay in such a good union." It wasn't a request.

She nodded, done with talking to the horrid man.

"It will be done," Crothers confirmed.

She didn't want this. There were too many details outside of her control now. If the resistance failed to step up after all this, she had half a mind to help Murdoch bring down the pompous fools. The thought, even in jest, was in poor taste, but it was a reflection of her frustration.

Murdoch's face was alight with glee. It was the first time she'd ever seen a resemblance to Zayn in him. The way his eyes reflected joy was eerily similar, but it was tragic that her impending demise brought him such joy.

With negotiations completed, everyone stood to leave. It was crowded as they all moved toward the door at once.

Kalysta stood as well, but the minute she rose someone bumped into her forcefully, causing her to fall back into her seat.

It was Zayn.

"My apologies, Princess," he snorted. His tone was anything but apologetic, though he did extend his hand to help her stand up again.

She took it... and felt a piece of paper between their palms. Barely, she held her composure, releasing his hand and accepting the paper discreetly. He was giving her a message since they couldn't talk in private.

"Thank you, Ambassador," she said. "I apologize for my clumsiness."

He didn't answer, and simply walked away.

She tucked the paper up the long sleeve of her dress and met Duke Crothers by the door. He offered his arm and she took it, letting him lead her into the corridor.

He waited until they'd moved away from most of the people before whispering, "I'm so sorry, Princess. I wish there had been a better way."

"We still have hope, Duke," she returned, whispering as well. "It may not be my favorite solution, but Murdoch doesn't own us yet." She was starting to sound like Zayn, quick to reassure even while consumed with doubt.

"The Prince is not a good man," Crothers continued, his voice barely audible now. "I hope you do not think it insolent of me, but I see you not only as my future Queen, but like a daughter as well. I would mourn my daughter's marriage to such a man, and yours even more so, for you've been coerced into this."

Kalysta was touched. "Your concern warms my heart, Duke, but the matter still stands that this is necessary. I value your opinion and favor, for it does me proud that you view me as such. Mary is growing into a wonderful woman and to be held up alongside your daughter means much to me."

Crothers nodded, accepting her words, but sighed.

"The future is not entirely bleak," she continued. "I will go over any opportunities available that may get us out of this situation, and I hope you will as well."

Zayn's POV

"Father, I'm leaving this evening," Zayn said, catching up to where Murdoch and Niall were walking surrounded by guards.

"You won't be going to Elysium with your brother?" Murdoch chided. "You're the Ambassador. He could use your help."

"I doubt that father," Zayn scoffed. "The only part of this marriage he's concerned with is a part for which he needs neither my presence nor my guidance." The thought made him sick.

"Father, I don't need him holding my hand everywhere I go," Niall grumbled. "I'm perfectly capable of seeing this through on my own." The look he gave Zayn then was disgruntled, as if it were Zayn's fault their father didn't trust his heir to go places by himself.

"Very well," Murdoch sighed. "I am growing quite irritated with your gallivanting, Zayn."

"Would you rather I stayed here?" Zayn asked wryly, knowing the answer already.

"Of course not!" Murdoch snapped. "I would rather you leave Mullingan women unsoiled and spend yourself in commixtion with foreigners as is your wont. We've kept our Royal City mostly unsullied with Bradian blood and I'd like it to stay that way."

"Alright." The words would have hurt if Zayn hadn't heard them in a multitude of ways on as many occasions already. As it was, Murdoch was easy to manipulate in his prejudice. "I'll probably be in Cheshire. The women there like muddy skin, even if you don't." Well, it hurt a bit to be rejected by his own father, even if he hated the man. For such an intolerant person, Murdoch was hypocritical to the point of incredulity.

"Bring back some of those incredible foods they produce," Murdoch replied.

"Did you want the spice mutton or pickled oysters?"

"I'd prefer you bring back the boy-King's personal chef, but I suppose I'll have to wait until we take over that pretentious country." He paused, then finally answered. "The oysters, if you would."

Kalysta's POV

When the Duke took his leave, she hurried into her rooms. They were blessedly empty but for Delia.

"Milady, how did it go?" her maid asked immediately.

Kalysta closed the door and pulled out the paper Zayn had slipped her. "Just a moment," she murmured to Delia.

The handwriting was small and cramped, but legible:

_Don't lose hope. L has been away talking to the kings while the treaty has been in progress. I will leave now to do the same. It can't hurt to speak to them one more time. L sent word that T may be close to cracking. I'll return to you before the wedding._

_Burn this after you've read it._

_You'll be in my every thought until we meet again. Be safe.~_

She clutched the note close to her body and sighed. Burning it was the safest way to prevent someone else seeing it, but she was loathe to lose even a small piece of evidence that their time together hadn't been a dream, that his feelings matched hers. Already it was slipping away from her, faster than she could have ever thought.

Before she talked herself out of it, she strode over to the fire and threw the note in, staring avidly as it burned to ash.

"What was all that about?" Delia asked.

"Zayn needed to tell me something."

"Did the meeting go well? I worried the whole time. That king is a dangerous person, no doubt."

"I'm to marry Niall within the month and if I don't produce two male heirs in the three years following then Elysium is annexed into Mullingar." She continued staring into the fire, her emotions actually numb. It was a blessed relief from the inner turmoil she'd been experiencing lately.

"What?"

"It was either agree to those terms or risk angering Murdoch," Kalysta answered.

"That-that's too much, Milady! What are you going to do?"

"What I must." Kalysta turned to look at Delia. "I'll do what I must, which is what I've always done."

"And what must be done?"

"I have my plans, but I won't be involving you," Kalysta sighed. "What I'm considering could endanger you and I won't do that."

"You're putting too much on yourself, Milady." Delia's voice was a horrified whisper. "You can't deal with all of this."

"Who else will?" Kalysta laughed mirthlessly. "I've dealt with it so far."

"Yes, and what happens when you reach your breaking point?"

"I suppose we'll find out."

\--- --- --- --- --- --- --- --- ---

The next day Kalysta hid in her rooms. She wasn't required to be anywhere and she could order food to be brought to her room. She had that much authority at least. Everyone else was preparing for the trip back, but that didn't mean she had to be involved.

Early in the morning, a note had been delivered from the Prince saying that he would be taking her and her entourage to Elysium with him in his illustrious ship. That was fine with her. He could do the organizing, or, more likely, delegate the task to someone else. She would stay in her room and enjoy what were likely to be some of her last few nights on her own.

Delia was spectacular, staying in the room with her and prattling about random things, usually William, that didn't require Kalysta's interaction or attention. She just talked about all the things William wanted to do with his inn, how he wanted to better some of the establishments in the city. It was a welcome distraction, but Kalysta didn't feel like she needed to respond.

After a bit, Delia asked soft questions about Zayn and how things had developed with him. At first Kalysta wasn't entirely sure she wanted to bare such raw wounds, but then she realized that Delia was the only one she could talk to about this and someone needed to know. She didn't want to keep such an experience to herself; it was too important. He was too important.

So it began. She talked for a while, all the nuances from the beginning that she hadn't cared to notice and all the times he'd made her angry only to make her go back on that emotion when he explained his side. She left nothing out, for she had no such secrets from Delia. It was a happy moment, remembering him, but when she reached the end of her tale, she couldn't help the melancholy weight in her chest.

"That's a lot to let go of," Delia said tentatively.

Kalysta buried her face in a pillow, not wanting to respond. She didn't want to let go of it. Those memories were all she had to get her through what was to come. Why did she have to let go of them?

"But I'm glad you had someone like him, no matter that it was dangerous and foolish," Delia continued. She somehow managed to sound encouraging while reprimanding. "Every woman should experience a kind man at some point in their life and I don't believe Niall would be a part of that group."

A knock on the door interrupted their talk. Delia answered the knock and allowed in a messenger from Niall.

"Good evening, Princess," the messenger began. "I bring news from His Highness, Prince Niall. He bid me to tell you that his ship, the Valencia, has been outfitted and will be ready to sail tomorrow. He expects you in the eighth hour of the morning."

"Thank you," Kalysta sighed. She had been hoping for a longer reprieve away from the dreadful man, but apparently the fates were against such sentiments.

Tomorrow, they would sail for Elysium and, following a week of engagement festivities, Kalysta would be married.


	79. Wild Animal

It wasn't a restful night. Horrible visions flitted across her mind as she slept, visions of war, of resulting famine, and of Murdoch being crowned king in Elysium.

Waking up was a relief, even if it meant she would be traveling with Niall. For as bad as her enemies were in the waking world, she preferred them to the ones her mind made up. She never used to have such dreams and she missed the times when sleeping was a welcome distraction.

Delia had already packed up the few things they'd used, so when it was time to leave Kalysta simply followed one servant to a carriage while another hauled the luggage behind her. A short, bumpy ride in said carriage took them to the docks. These were much more extensive than anything in Elysium by far. For a moment, Kalysta worried that just Delia would be with her on the Valencia, but when she walked up the boarding bridge to the top deck she found the Duke and Duchess.

"Good morning," she said, greeting them. "I'm quite glad to see you, I wasn't sure if you'd be traveling back this way as well."

"We couldn't leave you unchaperoned!" the Duchess gasped.

"Yes, the Prince sent a letter to our rooms, saying our presence was no longer needed, as he had chaperones of his own," the Duke chimed in, "but I let him know in no small way that it would be seen as a sign of hostility if an heir was required to travel with her fiancée but lacking her own native chaperones. He didn't respond, but neither were we barred entrance to the ship. I'll assume that he agreed with me."

Kalysta smiled. "Thank you for resisting."

She then took the time to look about the ship. Compared to the Partheos, this was grandiose and bulky, made to be weighed down by traveling nobles and their slew of items. Though it had taller masts and wider sails, based on the lower yard crossbeams, she had a feeling the Partheos could beat it in a race. Not that it mattered, of course. She simply wanted to tear down the importance of this ship from the start.

"Fair morning to you, Princess Kalysta." Niall's voice came from behind her, making her spin around to face him. "It's a grand ole ship, innit?" He gave a small, prideful grin, as if she should be impressed by a ship someone else had given to him.

"Why, yes, Your Highness, the ship is magnificent," she said, looking down at her skirts. "I don't know anything about them, but it makes a splendid sight."

"That it does, that it does," he agreed, looking up at the sails as they unfurled. His accent was even thicker now, as if he'd relaxed. "Would ye care to take a stroll about the deck with me?" he asked next.

Kalysta was flummoxed, for this was the least degrading conversation she'd had with him. In fact, he was almost polite. His tone lacked the conviction of true requests, but he at least knew the words to say. She'd started to think that perhaps they didn't teach Mullingan royalty about manners.

"Yes, Your Highness, I will," she answered, determined to figure out this change of heart.

"And I told ya to be calling me Niall," he growled angrily. Perhaps less of a change than she'd initially thought.

"Then you can call me Kalysta, without my title," she said sweetly. But it wasn't a request either and when she looked at him, his eyes had narrowed in displeasure.

"As ya say," he replied.

They walked about the deck in tense, awkward silence. He didn't try to speak or start a conversation and neither did she. Once they'd circled the deck once, she gave excuses to go to her quarters.

"My stomach is a bit out of sorts, Niall," she stated softly, hoping to regain that demure persona. "I beg your pardon, but I must go to my rooms. I do not wish to so embarrassingly lose my disposition in front of you or your men."

"Do what you must," he sighed, waving his hand dismissively. "I always forget you Elysians aren't sea-tried. Don't be sick on deck. My servant will take you and your maid to your quarters."

Kalysta curtsied and followed the man appointed to lead her.

The ship lurched a bit then as it started moving and Kalysta pretended to lose her balance completely. She remembered the mal de mer well enough to mimic it, even if she wasn't so afflicted at the moment. The feelings were permanently planted in her mind.

Delia caught her and held her arm, steadying her before they continued following the servant.

Kalysta heard Niall laugh behind them and the rest of the crew joined in. He was making fun of her! The thought made her hands shake with outrage. No one should be ridiculed for an unfortunate illness that happened to everyone. The man was insensitive and cruel and she was glad she'd felt the real effects around people who treated her with kindness.

The quarters she was given were much tidier and more spacious than those aboard the Partheos. There was still only one bed, though, so she and Delia would have to share. Worse things had happened.

When the servant left, Kalysta abandoned her pretense and walked around the room purposefully. If she remembered right, Louis had said walking would help lessen the effects of the mal. She wasn't actually feeling any at the moment, but she didn't want to take any chances.

"How did you get your sea legs?" Delia gasped. She seemed similarly unaffected.

"I traveled with Zayn aboard his ship for some of it," Kalysta responded.

"The way you talked it sounded as if you'd been traveling by horse!"

"And we did, for a lot of it. I told you about Zayn rescuing me from the water, didn't I? That wasn't in a lake."

"Ah yes, I do remember," Delia said. "I guess it slipped my mind."

"You're not that old, Delia," Kalysta chided. "You shouldn't have this bad a memory already." She smiled at Delia, who scoffed in return.

"You say that now, but wait until your reach thirty years. That's when it all starts downhill. You'll change your tune then right enough."

"Yes, I'm sure," Kalysta said, sighing and flopping onto the bed. "My last time on a ship was much better than this."

"Well, I may be your maid, but I refuse to provide the same services that Zayn did," Delia grumbled.

Kalysta gasped and broke into laughter. "Delia, why would you even bring that up?" She laughed again.

"It's nice to hear you laugh is all. You don't do enough of it by my reckoning."

"Regardless, do you think I could arrange to hide away in here for the rest of the trip?" Kalysta sighed. "I would like to put off being in Niall's company until it is required."

"I could pretend you're embarrassed, but manageably sick," Delia replied. "We'll have to leave for trips to relieve ourselves, but other than that I believe we can nestle ourselves in here and ignore his royal assery."

"That's no way to speak of my fiancée!" Kalysta couldn't properly admonish Delia. She was laughing too hard.

"You've called him worse."

"I'll confess to that." Kalysta smiled for another minute, then considered something. "How did you get your sea legs?"

"I wasn't always your maid, if you'll recall."

"You were my mother's maid before I was born. You've told me that, but what of it?"

"I was with her before she married your father. Before then she was being courted by other nobles, including a few in Cheshire. They sent for her in their extravagant vessels and I got to go with her."

"I can't imagine her sailing," Kalysta confessed.

"Well, she did."

"That's quite some time ago. You keep your sea legs that long?"

"Once more you comment on my age," Delia teased.

"I'm terribly sorry."

They settled in and didn't talk for some time. Kalysta could admit that sea travel was quite leisurely when it wasn't hurried. She understood Zayn's fascination with it. Her good mood following the banter with Delia vanished with the thought. Everything she did reminded her of Zayn. She didn't want to forget him by any means, but it still hurt.

\--- --- --- --- ---

Just as she'd hoped, she was able to stay in her quarters for the length of the trip. It took almost a week. The Valencia was as slow-moving as she'd foreseen; it was made for comfort and ease.

She talked with Delia most of the time and feigned illness when the Duchess came to check on her. Not being ill would actually be suspicious since she hadn't publicly ever been on a ship. So she made herself to appear sickly when the need arose. It was a blessing that a man visiting an unmarried woman's quarters would be considered highly improper, so she didn't have to put on a front for the Prince, at least for the trip.

When they reached Westtown, Kalysta really did start to feel sick. There was no turning back, no other plan to call upon to stop her marriage to Niall. She still diverted abject despair with thoughts of the resistance actually organizing, but she was fully aware the thoughts were purely fantastical.

They discovered the same problem in transit from ship to shore that Louis had, in that Westtown's docks and wharfs wouldn't handle a ship the size of the Valencia. Niall had ordered the dinghies brought out. She would be riding in the little boat with Delia, the Crothers', Niall, and then the men that would row them to shore. There was no way that Niall would assist in the rowing as Zayn had done. It was another large, blatant difference in the two men.

Kalysta made a big to-do when it came time for her to descend the ladder to the dinghy, as if she feared the water. Niall grew exasperated at her histrionics and it was a small joy to see him frustrated. She continued the charade in the dinghy, moaning over the side and swearing to all that she would never go to sea again. This made Niall even angrier and by the time they reached the shore he was offering for her to take her own carriage in order to gain her good constitution back.

She and Delia had a proper laugh about it in their carriage. However, she eventually had to moderate her mood and prepare herself mentally for the serious time ahead.

\--- --- --- --- ---

Going from Westtown to her Royal City Haven took less time than she would have liked. Admittedly, they were traveling the main roads and in a royal procession so it was very easy-going. They arrived before night had fallen and her presence was met with cheers as they rode down the streets. People stood out in the streets or hung out their upper windows. She had her curtains parted so her people could perhaps catch a glimpse of her and take encouragement that she was in fact well and fully recovered from her so-called illness.

Niall had probably made himself very visible, undoubtedly riding some striking stallion, and everyone knew what Mullingan uniforms looked like, so there was no mistaking who the visitors were. Guards had come along, displaying Mullingar's now-active presence in Elysium, and also to protect Niall. Kalysta was sure they'd be called upon to enforce what Niall ordered, too.

It was darkly humorous the way her people cheered at the sight of her and then turned gravely quiet when either Niall appeared behind her carriage or when the gravity of the situation occurred to them. She hoped Niall was aware of how his presence was being taken. Though, he probably wouldn't care. He was going to be in charge of essentially three nations when Murdoch passed, Mullingar, Bradford, and Elysium. His rule was even stronger in Elysium, because he would be in charge outright; whereas Bradford still at least had a figurehead King who could muddy the political waters if he didn't like how things were going.

Kalysta felt a deep sense of loss at fully realizing she'd put her country in a worse place than Bradford was in.

Coming upon the castle was a grand affair. Her father, in her absence, had planned for their arrival, it seemed. The Royal Guard of Elysium was out in their finest garb, lined up to greet their Princess and her betrothed.

Kalysta couldn't stand it. Yes, the situation called for pomp and class, but that didn't mean she had to enjoy it. There was a sense of deceit in making a coerced engagement into a glamorous affair.

From the window of her carriage she could see the courtyard entrance doors wide open and a gathering of people inside. Of all the ways to bring home a fiancée, hers was perhaps the saddest. Her parents would fake approval, she would despise taking his arm in a symbolic gesture, and then she would be presenting him to her people as if he were a trophy.

It made her wonder what the Prince would say. Would he belittle her, compare her to livestock as his father had done and congratulate her parents on producing such a fine specimen? Would he tear down her father blatantly and immediately assert authority from the start?

This was like bringing a wild animal into her home, frightening, unpredictable, and dangerous.


	80. Out of Sorts

Kalysta departed her carriage with the help of a servant. Niall was waiting for her a few steps away, ostensibly so they could walk together. She very grudgingly accepted the arm he offered.

"Are you recovered from your sickness?" he asked as they walked between the lines of the Royal Guard toward her parents.

"I'm well now, not that you actually care," Kalysta returned.

"I beg your pardon?" Niall hissed. "I didn't quite catch that."

"You heard me well enough, I'm sure."

"I was giving you a chance to recant," he replied, his voice deadly.

"You're not in Mullingar anymore and I refuse to pander to your spoiled, disgusting expectations for women." Kalysta was done putting on a face. Niall wouldn't back out now, so she didn't care what he thought of her.

"Ah yes, it was too much to expect an Elysian woman to know her place," Niall returned through gritted teeth. "Your shy demeanor before went against everything I'd heard of you."

"Oh, I'm so terribly sorry that I haven't been entirely frank with you." She made it clear in her tone that she was anything but sorry.

"Remember well, Princess, that I still hold the power here," he warned, tightening his arm against his body and pinching hers between them. "If I call this off now, my father won't care. He'll march on this squalid hovel and end you all."

Kalysta took a deep breath to calm the immediate, unavoidable anxiety that rose up. "I agree to be civil, then, if you are."

"I'll do as I please," he replied loftily.

"Such helpful compromise, that is." She'd had enough of his stupidity. They'd be lucky if they lasted the engagement period without killing each other.

At that point, their hushed argument came to a halt for they'd stepped in front of her parents.

They stood at the end of the row of guards, regal and strong. She could see her parents' unease, though, because she knew them so well. Her mother's eyes were narrowed a touch in concern and her father looked weary with distress.

"Welcome, Prince Niall," her father opened. "I see by your presence here that negotiations were successful for the marriage treaty."

"They were, Father," Kalysta jumped in, not allowing Niall a chance to respond.

She could sense Niall's gaze of anger, but she ignored it, instead wrenching her arm loose from his grip and going to greet her parents properly. Her father's face was pinched and apprehensive, but he hugged her tightly and returned her kisses on both cheeks. Kalysta greeted her mother the same and then turned to Niall.

"Come, Niall, I'm sure you're as tired as I after such a journey. I believe there is a feast waiting for us to celebrate our engagement."

"Thank you, Your Highnesses," Niall said. "I'm glad you have not set aside all the traditions our peoples had in common. There will be less work fixing Elysium than I expected."

Kalysta balled her fists, but kept her mouth shut. It seemed he would be flaunting his authority any chance he was able. She would have to bear with it.

"Well, Prince Niall, we can discuss it all in great detail over the next week of engagement festivities," her father replied diplomatically. "By this time next week, you will be married to my lovely daughter. Come, let me get to know my future son." He was being much more courteous and sensible than she thought him capable, but she was glad. Where she had lost all patience with Niall, her father still had a bit.

\--- --- --- --- ---

Kalysta went to her rooms and got ready for the engagement feast. Probably the worst part of week-long celebrations was the fact that she would be required to be perfectly done up every evening. It was exhausting and painful, between the pins in her hair, wearing a corset for extended periods of time, and having to put on a face in front of everyone. The next week would be horrible.

It made her wish that Zayn were there, if only so she didn't feel so alone. At that thought, she rummaged through her things, interrupting Delia's work on her hair.

"What are you doing, Milady?" Delia complained. "I don't have all night to make you presentable."

"Where's the flask, Delia?"

"What flask?"

"The one he gave me. I brought it back and I haven't seen it since."

"I hid it."

"Why?" Kalysta turned to look at her.

"Well, it's easily identifiable as his by anyone who's spent any time with him, right?" Delia looked worried. "Anyone who knows him knows the importance it holds for him and I'd assume his brother is one of those people. How would it look if you had it?"

"I need it," Kalysta whispered, "just for a moment."

"It'd be best if you forgot about it and him," Delia offered. She went to Kalysta's closet, though, moved a couple things around, and turned around, holding out the flask.

"Continuing to hold on will make it all harder to relinquish later."

Kalysta took the flask and turned it over in her hand, inspecting it carefully. There was a beautiful circular pattern etched into the side and the craftsmanship was lovely and durable. "Would you forget William, even if you had to?" she asked quietly.

"I'm not a Princess," was Delia's response. She came over and smoothed her hand over Kalysta's hair.

"I won't get rid of this, nor will I forget my time with him." Kalysta was resolute. "If I'm forced to live the rest of my life with my betrothed, I want to have good memories."

Delia sighed and then gently took the flask from her to return it to its hiding place. "I don't like the pain this causes, but the alternative could have been worse." She paused for a moment. "Come. Let me finish getting you ready."

Kalysta accepted, returning to her seat and letting Delia finish her hair.

She missed Zayn. Though the flask was a comfort, as he'd hoped, she wanted the peace of knowing he was safe. That was only achieved by his presence.

The evening's celebration was much like the one in Mullingar. There was food, organized dancing, and plenty of drink. While everyone else celebrated, Kalysta went through the motions of what was required of her. She accepted the gifts and congratulations of the various nobles. When necessary, she danced with many different people including her father, Duke Crothers, Niall, and the heads of the assorted noble families. It was a spectacular event that she would have enjoyed normally. She could barely stand the affair, though.

Thankfully, Niall was more mannerly, behaving almost like a gentleman. He kept an appropriate distance while they danced and did not overly irritate her when they conversed. His overall comportment was still pompous, but he didn't say anything specifically that angered her.

By the end of the night, though, she was exhausted and her body hurt from being compressed in the corset. The party ended and Kalysta went to bed wishing Zayn would come soon. He'd promised to be there before the wedding. He had a week.

\--- --- --- --- ---

The next day wasn't very noteworthy. She spent the entirety of it with her parents and Niall. They were taking him on a tour of the caste and gardens, the polite, hospitable thing to do.

Niall didn't respond as politely. Though his voice was not as scathing as his father's or even Zayn's, he still managed to convey his scorn at the level of richness displayed by the royal family. In his opinion, there needed to be bigger, richer tapestries, finer rugs, and more servants. These were all changes he was so graciously willing to oversee, at their expense of course.

The stupidity of it made Kalysta mad. A few times she caught herself grinding her teeth and forced herself to stop. This man wanted to throw money around unnecessarily. The castle was already more opulent than the rest of the country, much to Kalysta's chagrin, particularly after having seen all the overlooked issues when she traveled through the land with Louis.

The party that evening was much like the last, stilted, obnoxious, and extended. Kalysta didn't think she could stand an entire week of it. And still, Zayn didn't show.

\--- --- --- --- ---

Finally, the evening of the third day of the engagement celebration, Zayn arrived. He came in the middle of the banquet, reminding her strongly of the first time they met. Then, he'd been late and encroaching on festivities, just as now, but the differences were there as well.

Though she was predictably pleased at his arrival, Niall was clearly not. His hands were fisted around his silverware and his face was murderous. Kalysta was surprised; she'd known there was animosity, but not full hatred.

Zayn strolled down the center of the banquet hall, toward where they were sat at the royal table enjoying their desserts. He looked smug, as if he owned the place, but Kalysta could sense that he was exhausted as well. She could see past the façade.

Though he was tired, he still looked better than anything else in the world to her. Immediately, Kalysta felt her tensed muscles relax at the sight of him. Everything would be fine. Zayn had arrived.

"Ambassador Zayn," her father greeted. "I did not expect to be seeing you again, what with our negotiations finished."

"Yes, Zayn, what are you doing here?" Niall spoke up, his tone threatening.

"Tsk, tsk, little brother," Zayn demeaned him, "is that any way to greet family?

"Your Majesty, King Jonathan, I came to be sure that the negotiations and engagement proceedings were continuing smoothly. It would be irresponsible to arrange a treaty, upon which so much depends, and then not see it through, right?"

"I suppose so, Ambassador." Her father sighed. "Please join us for the feast. There is sure to be food left."

"Many thanks, Your Majesty."

A chair was brought out for him and he was seated next to Niall.

Kalysta forced herself not to watch him. She wanted to see him fully, see in his face that everything had worked out. Had he been successful in getting Thomas's support? Was the resistance organizing?

She took a deep breath to calm herself and finished the meal peaceably.

The tense silence between the brothers was palpable until Zayn finally broke it.

"I didn't expect such a tantrum from you, brother," he said, his voice barely discernible to Kalysta where she was seated on the other side of Niall.

"Sod off, Zayn," Niall replied angrily.

"You're not happy to see me?" Zayn pretended to be outraged.

"Why should I be?" Niall hissed. "I said I don't need your help. You can leave. I have this well in hand."

"Father worries if I don't check on you." At this point it was clear Zayn was just nettling him for sport. If there was another reason, Kalysta couldn't determine it.

"Well, you can tell him that I've done well. There are already changes on the way in Elysium."

"I could. But I do enjoy a good feast. Would you begrudge me such a fine spread? And surely you won't keep me from your wedding? It's not every week that my brother gets married."

"Very well," Niall snapped. "You can leave after the wedding, but your help, your input, is neither wanted nor needed."

Zayn gave a heavy sigh. "I suppose I have to let you grow up some time."

Niall didn't answer.

The music started then, and he grabbed Kalysta's hand, pulling her up.

"Come," he ordered. "Let's take a spin on the floor."

She didn't have much of a choice, so she obliged, doing her best to match his pace as he strode to the center of the hall designated as the dance floor. Other couples joined them until the floor was full and she lost sight of the royal table. It would work out.

Niall held her closer than the night before and Kalysta fought to keep space between them.

"So the minute your family shows up you're back to being high-handed and oppressive," she hissed, using her arms to lever herself away from his body.

"Quiet," he snapped back, pulling her to him again. "Now is not the time to try my patience."

"Oh, I wasn't aware you had any." She gave an un-ladylike snort of derision.

"I'm not accustomed to openly striking a woman, but it's not a crime and I'll be doing it if you don't shut your carping gob." His accent was thick in his anger and she had no doubt that he meant every word.

She kept silent and no longer struggled against him, though his body pressed to hers made her feel sick. There she was, thinking he'd made progress, but it was gone just like that. It was no wonder that two such obnoxious people were so at odds; Zayn's persona was much like Niall's in behavior.

The evening wore on and eventually she ended up dancing with Zayn. It was a dream come true to feel his hands against her. She wished she wasn't wearing gloves so that she could feel the skin of his hand wrapped around hers. His warmth through the fabric would have to suffice.

"Are you well?" he asked quietly, spinning her around.

"Your pig-brother isn't my favorite, but I'll survive," she dismissed. "What of Thomas and the other rulers? Is there any news?"

He sighed, though his face remained impassive. "Thomas was stunned by your... sacrifice, but it-it wasn't enough to sway him. I spent all my time with him, trying to change his mind. He refuses."

Kalysta didn't realize how much hope had risen in her at the possibility until it was crushed. Her eyes filled for a second before she forced her emotions down; no tear spilled. It was always going to be this way, wasn't it? Fate had thrown her together with Niall and torn her from this one. She just needed to accept it.

Zayn sensed her consternation and he broke character for a split second, his hand rising upward from her waist to touch her face. He caught himself before touching her and returned his hand to rest on her side.

"I'm sorry," he whispered. "I tried. So hard. I-I don't know what it will take to shake them from their positions."

"It's fine," she said, keeping her face neutral. "We always knew how this would end."

"But I hate it," he breathed. "Just seeing you with him makes me-"

He stopped abruptly as the song finished and Niall moved toward them to take her for another dance. She could have wept for the difference between the two.

Midway through the dance with Niall she felt his shoulder tense under her hand. Something was wrong, though she hated being aware of his moods enough to notice.

"What is it?" she asked quietly. "Is everything alright?"

"You'll speak when spoken to," Niall snapped. There was that anger again, so abrupt and burning. "As for your question, it's none of your concern at the moment, that is, if I see fit to discuss anything with you." He tugged her closer, his hand on her waist drifting lower than was proper.

Her anger made the heat rise in her cheeks and she could hardly stand it. She hated this man and here she was, pretending to quell before him! It was demeaning. In reality, she wanted to upbraid him both physically and verbally.

She looked about her as she danced, hoping to distract herself with something besides Niall. Her eyes caught with Zayn's and for the first time ever, she saw him lose control of his facial expressions. He stared at her, and at Niall, with unflinching anger. Anyone who cared to notice would see him staring at them, revulsion, anger, and pain clearly shown on his face. His mouth was open and his chest heaved with the force of his breaths.

It was too much.

Niall was distracted, so when the song ended Kalysta did her best to get out of the situation.

"If you'll excuse me, Niall," she whispered, "I have need to visit the powder room."

"Yes, of course," he responded, waving his hands at her distractedly.

She moved away and caught Zayn's eyes. His gaze followed her and he was unapologetic with it. The weight of it made it hard for her to breathe.

She had to leave. The pressure of keeping face, the pain in his gaze, and the fear of being discovered made her flee. Her chest felt crushed and she hurried out of the banquet hall so she could find some clear air. She couldn't breathe around all those people.

She brushed off the servants at the doors to exit that offered help and hurried down the corridors. When she found a room she knew to be unused, she stepped inside, closing the door quietly.

The room's only furnishing were soft rugs and odd pieces of furniture that had been rejected in other parts of the castles. She hid behind one of the chests of drawers and knelt down, letting her anxiety and pain well up. Her breathing was erratic and loud, but she didn't care. She needed a moment to herself, so she let her wheezing sobs spill out.

It took her much longer than she wished. She'd been gone too long. But she couldn't seem to calm her breathing. Once she let her hysteria bubble to the surface it wouldn't be tamped back down.

The sound of the door opening stopped her breathing altogether. She hoped it wasn't Niall. She couldn't handle his brand of toxicity at the moment.

It wasn't Niall.

"Kalysta." Zayn's voice was raw. "Where are you?" He moved into the room, closing the door behind him. "I heard you. I'd know your voice anywhere. Are you alright?"

She glanced up in time to see him come around the side of the chest of drawers.

"Oh, Kalysta," he breathed. "Oh, love, I'm sorry." He knelt beside her and ran his hand over her back. Just his touch was enough to calm her some.

"What are you doing here?" she croaked. "We can't both be gone."

"I'm sure my brother has found someone else to dandle out there," Zayn grumbled. "I don't care about him. I care about you."

"I can't do this," she panted, her anxiety growing again. "I can't do this. Why won't they help? I have to marry him in less than a week, and then start having children and I'm not ready. I'm not ready for any of it. How did this get so botched? How did getting backed into a corner end with my marrying such a terrible man? I can't do it! I won't!"

She broke and clutched her face in her hands.

"Stop, Kalysta, stop," Zayn hushed her. "Stop. Slow your breathing. It's going to be alright. Breathe. In through your nose, out through your mouth. Breathe."

She did, raising her hands to meet his eyes. Everything in his gaze repeated what she was feeling, pain, sorrow, and love. He didn't have to say it, and neither did she. He was here, comforting her and loving her. So unfair.

She stood, unable to bear his gaze any longer. She would do something foolish. Instead, she went across the room to the wall, turning away from him. Breathe.

"Kalysta." His voice was earnest as he stood and walked over to her. "Kalysta look at me."

Against her better judgment, she did, turning around again.

He didn't hesitate, he didn't ask. He simply stepped forward, wrapped his hands in her hair, and pressed his lips to hers.

The kiss was urgent, powerful, and... a relief. Everything wound up in her unraveled and she returned his passion with more than enough of her own. She held his face in her hands and then slid her arms around his neck, trying her best to get as close to him as possible. She forgot her anxiety, she forgot her pain. Nothing mattered when she had the one thing in the world she wanted.

He pressed her back against the wall, moving his lips from her mouth to trail along her chin and down to her neck. She gasped at the sensation, wondering how she'd gone this long without his touch. His lips slid along her skin and he ran his hand up the front of her body to her neck until he gripped her chin and turned it to the side, giving him easier contact with her. She accepted this easily, twining her fingers in his hair and pulling him in tighter. His response was to brush his hips against hers barely, then plant them against her fully, trapping her effectively against the wall.

She let out a breathy moan. She couldn't think. She didn't want to think.

"Kalysta," he whispered her name against her neck, his breath making the hair of her body stand on end.

She fisted his hair in one hand and slid the other down his back, jolting his body against her forcefully. The ridiculous dress prevented her from feeling him completely and she despised it.

His hand drifted downward and slid against the bust of her dress, gripping gently. She couldn't feel much with the corset in the way and she let him know this, pressing herself up against his hand. He pulled down on the rim of the bust of her dress, releasing one breast to the air. Immediately, he put his mouth to the newly exposed flesh, but he was hampered by the corset.

"Gods, I can't have you against a wall," he breathed. "I want to hear you begging underneath me." He turned her around and placed her standing in the middle of the floor, but her legs almost wouldn't hold her. "And I want that dreadful attire off of you," he added. "It's getting in my way."

Grabbing her hand, he pulled her toward the center of the room where a particularly plush rug lay, illuminated by the moon shining through the slit-like window. He turned her around and began unlacing the back of her dress and corset. Finally, he pushed the material from her shoulders and let the dress and petticoats drop unceremoniously to the ground. She was clad only in her shift, stockings, and shoes. Gentle kisses and nips were pressed to her shoulder, making her breath hitch as she leaned her head back against him. His arms snaked around her and he grabbed her hips before pressing them backward against his body. She could feel everything now.

Quickly, he slid his fingers down her body. With one hand he walked the shift up her leg with his fingers and the other hand pushed her undercloth out of the way before pressing in. She gasped and her hips moved in response to the smooth movements of his fingers against her. She couldn't help it when she ground her hips down on his hand. Carefully, he withdrew his fingers and walked her forward until she was pressed against a dresser. She compliantly bent forward at his prompting and stretched herself over the surface of it.

He leaned over behind her and kissed her shoulder. "You need to relax," he whispered. "You'll give us both away if you show anything out there. You need to relax," he repeated. "Let me help you."

She heard him unbuckle his pants. Then, he was pulling her undercloth to the side once more and sliding his full length into her. The feeling was amazing. He gripped her chin and pulled it to the side so he could kiss her quickly. She felt she would burst with all the sensations running through her, the smoothed wood beneath her body, the coarse fibers of his shirt and pants, and the pressure he built as he pressed into her again.

He didn't keep a leisurely pace for long. He drove forward harder and she gasped at the feeling of his hips colliding with hers. Nothing could ever replace the feeling of being around Zayn, and she knew she wouldn't change it at all, because everyone deserved a chance for this, even a betrothed Princess. Their passion almost consumed her and she was glad for it.

Every thrust sent shivers up her spine and she groaned in ecstasy. Eventually he stood to his full height, gripped her hips, and settled into a punishing rhythm that had him swearing and gasping along with her.

Suddenly, loud footsteps surprised them and the door to the room burst open, three guards filing in, clearly Mullingans.

Zayn withdrew and plucked her back, moving between her and the men.

"Well, well, well, what have we here? A lover's tryst in the middle of a party? How rude! Why wasn't I invited?" Niall stepped in next, giving them a once over. "I never thought to see you this out of sorts until our wedding night, Princess," he said poisonously, "but it seems my dear brother jumped at the chance to gain that courtesy himself."


	81. Threats and Plans

Kalysta crouched and pulled her dress over to cover her body, continuing to hide behind Zayn. He stood in front of her and fixed his clothing as well.

"You know, I thought I saw something going on when you danced together, but I brushed it off," Niall pointed out. "Then I felt your hatred, Zayn, when I danced with her and held her so closely. Finally, the two of you disappear? Tell me, were you trying to be obvious?"

"Brother," Zayn said quietly.

"You are no brother to me!" the Prince hissed. "You. ruin. everything! You couldn't let me have this one thing! This one thing! I just wanted to get away from our father! Did you ever consider that? Did you ever stop to think about anyone but yourself? I hated being around a madman! You think you things were bad for you because you're Bradian, but I was the heir! You got to leave whenever you wanted, but I was trapped! Then, this one chance I get to escape and you try to ruin that too! By taking her maidenhood you've destroyed the chance of peace between our nations! All for your pitiful attempt at love. I can see it. I can see it in the way you hide her behind you. Oh, you always were the romantic, Zayn. Never had enough sense in your head to use women the way they're supposed to be used.

"Take him to the dungeons, men, and then come back here," he ordered next. "I expect you put the fear of my father into him on the way."

The guards moved forward and yanked Zayn away from her. He tried to stand, but one guard kicked him in the legs and another brought his knee up into Zayn's face as he fell. He dropped to his knees and they grabbed him under the arms and hauled him out of the room.

Kalysta watched all this in horror, feeling sick to her stomach and wishing she could fight back. But what would that accomplish? They'd been caught in the act, just as if her worst nightmares had come to life. She wished she were dreaming again.

"Princess Kalysta," the Prince sighed, "I am simply shocked that you'd be so selfish as to allow this. You were willing to suffer and give up your own happiness in marrying me, but then you go and throw all that out for a quick romp with a bastard?

"It's a good thing I'm more merciful than you realize," he added. "I'm choosing to ignore this. Am I not a merciful fiancée?"

What could she say?

"You'll learn that when I ask you something, I expect an immediate response," he threatened in a low voice, "but all in time."

The guards came back in a moment later and Niall sighed.

"I want you to watch this, Princess, and remember the next time you choose to defy me that I will get what I want, the difficult way or the easy way."

Without another word, the Prince whipped a sword out and killed the three men, right in front of her, a slice to the neck here, a slash there, a stab to the last. It was over quicker than she could believe. He was obviously an incredible swordsman, but having it displayed so brutally was beyond her realm of comprehension.

"Now see what you made me do?" he commented, not even a bit out of breath after the feat. He pulled out a cloth and wiped the blade before sheathing it again. "You made me kill some of my best men. They're dead because of you. I can't have this getting out. If someone knows my brother plucked you like a ripe plum then I have no way to take Elysium peacefully. I'd much rather rule a nest egg than a war-broken nation, you understand? I'll fix this. Think of it as a respite. Your pathetic little country won't be smeared from the maps, your family survives the year, my father gets a step closer to what he wants, and I get somewhere to rule away from him. Everyone's happy."

"Happy?" Kalysta asked, standing finally. "Your father threatens my family and my country, coerces me into marrying his putrid spawn and you think I'll ever be happy with that? You won't ever be worried about anyone's happiness but your own, you inbred pox."

His slap sent her careening to the floor.

"I show you mercy, offer to save your country, and you insult me?!" he bellowed. "Let this be a warning. Keep your tongue inside your head like a good little moll. You have more loved ones than the Ambassador. Young Franklin has grown up under your father's misguidance. Perhaps he deserves some special training in the treatment of women? I could show him what a real man can do."

The slap was more painful than she could describe and at his words she couldn't keep in a cry of despair. He'd done more than threaten her family's safety; now he was threatening her brother's innocence. She couldn't fight him on this with so much at stake.

"Please no," she whispered. "I'll do as you say."

"Make yourself as presentable as possible," he ordered. "Go to your rooms and I'll send your maid to fix your appearance. You will tell her nothing of what's happened and when you look like you should, come back to the party. Do not take too long," he warned. "You are on shaky ground. One wrong move and everyone you love can be taken from you. Easily. Do not test me, do not rebel. You will behave like a doting fiancée, as you should have all along. Go."

She wouldn't try him. She simply left, tucking herself back into her dress as quickly as possible before exiting the room. It was blessedly deserted in the corridor and she knew that was Niall's doing. He hadn't wanted any witnesses when he caught them.

His threats loomed in her mind. If she thought about it too much her heart would burst and she'd break down. She couldn't do that. Not now.

Elysium was in a more precarious spot, and this time it was her fault. She couldn't blame her father, she couldn't truly blame deranged Murdoch. It had been in her mind from the start, the penalties she faced for her actions, but she'd been careless, idiotic to the extreme. By all rights, the treaty could be terminated. Niall, the Mullingan heir, couldn't marry a woman who was found to not be a maiden. It didn't matter who she'd been with.

But Niall was determined to rule away from his father, to escape the mad king. Perhaps she could gain some advantage from that, but her mind was too jumbled to sort through it all.

And the fear of Zayn's situation was incapacitating. She could barely breathe as she hastened back to her rooms.

The marriage was the least of her worries now. Niall's anger toward Zayn was formidable and the threat to her brother gut-wrenching. She was more indebted and chained to this man's whims than ever.

She reached her rooms and immediately sat in front of her mirror. She was a mess. It was good no one had seen her; there would be no way to disguise a problem when she looked like this.

Wearing the corset seemed ridiculous, and her dress was wrinkled and dirty from lying on the floor. There was no salvaging it for this evening, so she shed it and then began removing the pins from her hair. Knots and tangles would give her away. Her hair would have to be redone.

Delia let herself into the room at that moment.

"Milady!" she exclaimed. "What's happened? Your hair! And why is your lovely dress on the floor?"

"We need to hurry," Kalysta replied.

"Not until you tell me what's going on! You disappeared and then the Prince disappeared and... Oh!" This last was a horrified gasp. "He didn't... The Prince didn't...."

"No, Delia, the Prince did not have his way with me. He caught me and Zayn..." Kalysta didn't finish the sentence. "I need your help," she whispered next.

"Oh, Milady." Delia was distraught. "How did he react when he found you?"

"Zayn is in the dungeons and there's a lovely red hand-print on my face that needs covering up."

"He struck you?!"

"Delia we don't have time to talk about this. I need a new dress and to fix my hair."

"Very well."

Delia went to the cupboard where her dresses hung and got her another. "You won't be able to hide the fact that you've changed. I advise coming up with a valid excuse instead of avoiding the subject."

"I'll simply say that I didn't feel the red suited my coloring or the occasion," Kalysta answered. "I need a favor from you."

"And what is that?"

"When we return to the banquet, I need you to subtly make it known to the other maids that Niall sent you to fix me up and it was clear that more than talking had gone on."

"What purpose does that serve?"

"I know some of the castle maids have taken the Mullingan men to bed," Kalysta answered, wincing as Delia was particularly rough with her hair. "If we can undermine his standing with them, then at least that's something."

"How will that undermine him? They're all animals that are more likely to act on their basic instincts. They'll probably congratulate him on getting the prize early."

"Not all of them, though. If there's one thing I learned from all that dancing and posing in Mullingar, it's that there are at least some men who are sane, self-thinking people. The entire country doesn't take after the mad king, even if Harden and Niall did. Some probably do care about tradition and the laws set up. If we can get just one to question his loyalty to Niall then we weaken him."

"I'll do it if you really think it will help."

"Anything helps when you have nothing."

"What is he going to say about Zayn being arrested?"

"I have no idea."

Delia put the last touches on Kalysta's hair and then used some of the powders to disguise the red mark on her face.

Again, Kalysta was reminded that she wouldn't function nearly as well without Delia. This was just another example of how Delia did a lot more for her than anyone would realize.

Kalysta returned to the banquet hall and the dancing and drinking were still in full swing. The entire hall noticed her entrance and she knew there would be speculation as to why she'd been gone for so long. Again, she had to face the realization of how stupid she'd been to disappear, get into a compromising situation with Zayn, and then expect to not be caught. That man made her forget reason. Before any other thoughts about him could manage to surface, she forced the issue from her mind, focusing on the task ahead. She had to behave as if nothing was wrong, even if everything was wrong.

Niall was in his seat at the royal table and, when he caught sight of her, he rose to greet her in the middle of the floor. Her chest hurt as he approached and held out his hand in a motion to dance with him once more. He was testing her.

"I'm glad to see your return so quickly," he said, taking her hand in a fierce grip and leading her farther out among the dancers.

They danced for a moment, and he was once more the gentleman, keeping her at an appropriate distance and his hands in the proper place.

"I want to take this time to thank you for not destroying Elysium in the face of my... indiscretion."

He bared his teeth in a semblance of a grin. "Oh, Princess, it's too late to make a good impression. I know who you are and I do not forgive."

Kalysta kept her face impassive and replied, "Then I won't hold to pleasantries, Prince, not that you would appreciate them."

"Now, that's where you're wrong," he murmured, his grip on her waist tightening, "because it still hold every source of power in this situation, so no matter what I say, you'll stick to being pleasant or I will make good on every threat I've made thus far. Your one goal now is to make me happy enough that I choose to ignore what has happened."

Kalysta took a faltering breath through her nose. "Very well, Prince." She left it at that.

\--- --- --- --- ---

It took her hours to fall asleep that night and when she did she was haunted by images of Zayn dying, in horrific ways. He dueled Niall in one and she watched him get stabbed in the chest. In another, Niall had him hung. The second was the worst for the image grew bigger in her mind, taking over her mental image, Zayn swinging from a rope, his head at an odd angle, his face blank, his eyes lifeless.

She woke early in the morning after the dreams and didn't go back to sleep. Instead, she chased her options around in her mind, each one more fantastical and impossible than the last. To comfort herself, she imagined freeing Zayn and running away with him on the Partheos to lands unknown across the sea.

When the sun had risen, Delia got her out of bed and ready for the day. They'd just finished when a servant came with a message from Niall.

"Good morning, Highness," the servant greeted. "Prince Niall bid that I bring this message to the royal family and all the advisors of the Elysian counsel. He will be holding the trial of a traitor and summons you to the proceedings at midday. Your presence is... er... is required."

Kalysta wanted to throw up. Niall was going to try Zayn as a traitor. What evidence would he use?

"I will be there." Her voice remained steady as her body trembled in fear.

What would be the verdict of this? Surely Niall couldn't just order a member of the royal family executed when he had no proof and no eye-witness beside himself. She wasn't sure, though. Mullingan justice was different from her own.


	82. Left-Handed Justice

The time between then and midday was spent trying to calm herself. Delia did her best to help, but she couldn't know everything that was going on in Kalysta's head. And there was plenty going on in her head. No matter the outcome she envisioned, she didn't know a way out.

If Niall tried Zayn as a traitor, the rightful punishment according to Elysian and Mullingan law was death. The manner of death was usually dependent on the monarch's whims, and Kalysta dreaded to think what Niall would concoct in his current mood. It could range anywhere from beheading to the stone press. It was a question of whether Niall wanted to satisfy his rage or his taste for theatrics.

A servant came at midday and led her to the audience chamber where she normally heard petitions from her people. It was a place normally reserved for peaceful motions to be presented, a place of justice. Though Niall couldn't have known exactly what the chamber was for, he was going against its purpose, especially because the trial would surely be a farce. But then, he'd shown a remarkable ability to learn things he shouldn't and then punish people accordingly. She wouldn't put it past him to learn of the audience chamber, scorn its typical use, and adapt it to his own purpose. This was only the first of many changes to come.

She approached the dais where she usually heard the petitions. Niall was seated in her large, comfortable chair and a smaller, more severe chair had been set to his right, clearly for her occupation. Her assumption was correct, for he gestured to it grandly. She took her seat.

Council members were standing to the side, just off the dais. No chairs had been given to them and the council women were conspicuously absent from the proceedings. They either hadn't been informed or were told specifically not to attend. Niall was already more in charge than she'd ever wanted to allow.

He stared at her intently as she sat. "I hope you slept well, fiancée," he greeted. The coldness of his voice and manner said otherwise.

"I slept quite well, my Prince," she returned, "and I hope your rest was good too."

"Oh, I slept soundly and without a care." He bared his teeth in the fake grin she knew he used to anger her.

His attempt was successful, for the thought that he'd threatened so many awful things without remorse drove her crazy. But she'd been practicing keeping control of her facial expressions. She showed only soft geniality and replied, "I'm so very glad to hear that."

Her parents entered then, before Niall could try any further attempts to anger her.

"What is the meaning of this?" her father snapped, striding toward the dais. "What gives you the right to summon us to a trial? You do not rule Elysium yet, son of Murdoch."

"Oh dear, my apologies, Your Majesty," Niall chuckled, contradicting his words. "I simply discovered a traitor among us at the party last night and hoped you would help me pass judgment."

Her father shifted his gaze to her, silently asking what was going on.

She shook her head and let her fear show on her face. With a jerk of her head, she motioned for her father to stand next to her on the dais.

"Very well," Jonathan spoke up. "I will oversee and ensure that Elysium justice is upheld."

"Oh, I doubt that will be necessary since the accused is neither one of your subjects nor is his crime toward you. I thought to be respectful by including you in the proceedings; that is all."

Her father's face furrowed in suspicion, but he moved to stand next to Kalysta, her mother following close behind.

"What is the meaning of this, Kalysta?" he asked quietly.

Conscious of the fact that Niall could easily hear them, she based her answer accordingly. "My fiancée believes that he has uncovered a traitor, Father. W-we should stand behind his decision."

"Why, beloved, it's a relief to have your support," Niall gasped, patting her hand. His disdain was barely veiled.

Her father hissed at Niall's familiarity and contact, but Kalysta waved her hand dismissively.

"I'm glad you feel that way," she simpered in return. She might be pressing her luck, but he was being an ass.

A bustling at the door drew their attention as Zayn was led into the chamber. Dragged was a more appropriate description. Two guards held him to full height, where his feet were touching the ground, but he couldn't put any support on his legs and he appeared barely conscious.

His head was lolling and, when they stopped him before Niall, it rolled backward, providing her the first glimpse of his face. She wished she hadn't seen it.

The right side of his face was puffy and unrecognizable. His lips were split in several places and his nose had dribbles of dried blood below it. In conjunction with his injuries, his right eye was swollen closed. Only the left eye opened and even that was sporadic.

Niall clenched his left fist reflexively and when Kalysta glanced over to perceive the movement, she saw that his knuckles were split and bleeding. The sight horrified her. If Niall had transferred his considerable anger into physical violence, there was no telling the damage to Zayn, especially when most of his body was covered by his attire from the night before.

"Zayn Malik, son of Murdoch and Lamia, you are here to be given the charges against you, and to see the witness who accuses you."

Zayn righted his head and stared at Niall, but did not answer.

"Bring in the witness!"

A man stepped into the room, dressed in servant's clothing, and wringing a hat in his hands. He was frightened and looked ill. Kalysta couldn't imagine what he'd been promised or threatened with in order to lie.

"Mr. Elric, please tell us your statement," Niall commanded.

"Well, I-I was walking by the east wing last night, and I overheard voices in a room, talking." The man spoke with a Mullingan accent. He was probably one of the servants Niall had brought with him. "The men talking w-were talking about how to get rid of Prince Niall and then His Majesty King Murdoch as well. I-I went and found the Prince. I told him what I heard and we returned there with some guards

"We confronted the men, the-the Ambassador and three guards. The other men died fighting back. Th-that's all."

"You swear that Zayn was one of the men?"

"Y-yes."

The testimony was pathetic; clearly, the man was terrified and his story was incredibly shaky. Beating Zayn wasn't the only thing Niall had been doing last night. He'd been finding someone to repeat some made-up story of treason.

"Very well, I see no reason to continue then," Niall announced. "You may go, Stellan."

The man hurried out without a backward glance.

"You're going to convict a man of treason based on a single witness?" Jonathan asked, disbelieving.

"Does anyone object to this justice?" Niall looked around at them and then settled his gaze on Kalysta. "What about you, my dear fiancée? Is that some reason you might want to object?"

She looked down and swallowed the bile in her throat. The cruelty! She shook her head.

"That's good enough for me," Niall said, clapping his hands and then leaning back in his chair. "Now, I believe that our laws are in agreement in this case. Treason is a capital crime punishable by death and I don't think it should be any different now. So." He paused and pointed at Zayn.

"As a punishment for crimes committed against the Crown and our Father," Niall bellowed, "the former Ambassador of Mullingar will be whipped every day, ten lashes in the evening, until the day of the wedding. As a marriage gift to my fiancée here, you will be hanged, as a sign that her new husband will do what is right. This good city will be given the duty, nay, the privilege, of watching a traitor hang by his neck until dead. Now, guards, take this rubbish out of my sight."

The Prince's men dragged Zayn away.

She kept her face a mask of indifference as Prince Niall turned to look at her.

He took her hand in his and leaned over to whisper in her ear. "Look at you," he mocked. "You stare at him as if he were nothing to you. Are you so quick to throw away your lover?"

She didn't respond. His words in her ear were like a snake's.

"And why so silent?" he continued. "Did Zayn take your tongue with your maidenhood, you foul harlot?"

She sucked in a breath, but didn't respond.

Niall sat back in his chair. "You're all dismissed. The festivities continue this evening and I very much look forward to another time of celebrating this peace."

Kalysta stood first and left the room as quickly as she could. Her heart felt like it would pound out of her chest. Seeing Zayn in that state was truly terrible, but it was worse that she'd essentially denied him. She'd watched him be led away and now he was going to pay the ultimate price.


	83. Better Man

On the way back to her rooms, Kalysta ran into Mahir, literally. They collided in the hallway and he caught her before she could fall off balance. It reminded her of when they were on the Partheos and he'd caught her.

"Oh, excuse me, Your Highness," Mahir said quietly. "I beg your pardon."

Kalysta looked around quickly. There was a servant walking away from them at the end of the corridor. She waited until they were alone in the area.

"Listen, Mahir, and listen closely, because we don't have much time," she hissed, gripping his arm tightly. "Niall has convicted Zayn of treason."

"I knew something was wrong when Zayn didn't contact me for more than a day," Mahir groaned, then swore.

"Niall has him in the dungeons and I need your help."

"Princess, I don't know about you, but I don't have enough trustworthy men with me to stage a rescue."

"No, not help in that way. Not yet at least."

"What then?"

"I need you to find Louis and tell him what's happened. Niall plans on having Zayn hanged in three days. I have no one to send to reach him."

"How can I find him in time? Three days?!" Mahir ran a hand across his beard and puffed out a breath.

"Zayn said they were in Velia last, trying to persuade Thomas again. Check there first."

"I can't make it in time!"

"Go to the Pips and Pints, the inn in the city. The keeper, William, will help you. Tell him that Miss Lady Lyra sent you and that you need Starling. That was the horse I rode on our trip. He's a good horse, a fast horse. He'll get you to Etharia as fast as is possible. We'll just have to pray that Louis is still there."

Several nobles rounded the corner with their servants, headed toward her and Mahir.

"Just do it," she whispered, and walked away.

She hid in her rooms after that. She wasn't technically required to do anything until the banquet that evening anway. Being out of her room wasn't good for her. Emotionally, she couldn't deal with Niall constantly antagonizing her. It was better to give him fewer chances.

There was, however, one thing she was willing to leave her rooms to do.

"Delia, may I ask another favor?"

"Of course, Milady."

"Will you scout the dungeons for me?"

"And what would be the purpose of this scouting mission?" Delia asked carefully.

"I need to know whether Niall is in the dungeons or not."

"If he is?"

"Then I might ask you to create a diversion in another portion of the castle to distract him."

"And if he's not in the dungeons?"

"Then I will go see Zayn." Kalysta was resolute.

"What will that accomplish?" Delia sighed.

"I want to talk with him and see how badly he's injured," Kalysta answered. "Also, I'd like to see how well he's being guarded to analyze a possibility of freeing him."

"Milady," Delia said uneasily, "I don't think that's a good idea. Even if the Prince isn't there, his guards will be. What will you do about them?"

"I have my ways."

"Don't do this. What will the Prince do if the Ambassador escapes? You said he's watching you closely, waiting for you to make a mistake."

"What would you have me do?" Kalysta cried. "If I don't do something, Zayn dies in three days! Three days! Should I just let him die? Should I just give up?"

"I don't know," Delia breathed. "But don't be hasty."

"Will you scout for me or not?"

"Yes." Delia stood, setting aside the embroidered pillow she'd been repairing. "I'll do it."

\--- --- --- --- --- --- ---

Delia returned quickly. "The guard stopped me before I could see the Ambassador, but as far as I could tell Niall isn't there."

"Thank you, Delia," Kalysta sighed, taking her hand. "Now will you come with me when I go? I don't want to walk down there alone."

"Of course."

Kalysta moved out into the corridor and walked slowly and deliberately despite the urge she felt to get there as quickly as possible. Moving quickly was suspicious. Though she didn't necessarily care if people knew her destination, she didn't want to bring attention to it either.

Upon reaching the dungeons, she was stopped by a Mullingan guard. He drew his sword and held it across her path.

"Excuse me, Your Highness, but I have strict orders to keep everyone out of this section of the dungeon, under Prince Niall's orders."

"Oh, you have specific orders from my fiancée to stop me from moving about my own bloody castle?" she hissed. She was not in the mood to deal with this idiocy.

"Well, no, but he said no one was allowed to see this prisoner." The guard looked incredibly uncomfortable.

"That's just too bad, isn't it?" Kalysta mocked. "A Princess being told what to do by a lowly guardsman? That is just too much."

"Of course not, Your Highness." The guard was blustering now, clearly unsure how to behave around a royal woman who stood up for herself.

"Lower your sword and let me pass," she ordered.

"I'm afraid I can't do that."

"Listen, cad, your Prince isn't the only one who can fake a trial and find witnesses to lie for him. This is my. sodding. country and I will have you burned at the stake and hanged, simultaneously, if you do not get out of my way. Right now." She stared at him until he lowered his eyes.

"Alright, Your Highness." The guard sheathed the sword and moved back.

"Wise choice. I guess you have a sense of self-preservation after all. Now, kindly move down to the end of the corridor."

He did as ordered and Kalysta motioned Delia to follow her.

Zayn's POV

"I'm sorry," her voice reached him through the fog in his mind.

He opened his eyes. She was standing there, gripping the bars of his cell tightly. She seemed to be real, but an exhaustion-induced dream was also a possibility. The gods knew how much he had wanted to talk to her.

"Kalysta?"

"Yes, I'm here." Her voice cracked and when he focused his eyes further he saw tears streaming down her face. It hurt to see her in pain, hurt worse than his physical injuries.

"I'm so sorry," she whispered. "It wasn't supposed to happen like this."

"Don't be sorry," he breathed, attempting to sit up. "I knew what it could mean... the moment we started." The act of pulling in air hurt because of bruises on his ribs, but moving hurt even more. Still, he wanted to go over to her, touch her, look at her because he might not get another chance.

Kalysta's POV

He stood to his feet, but promptly fell to one knee.

"Don't move, Zayn," she whispered. "I don't want you hurt any more than you are."

"I won't come to you on my hands and knees," he ground out. It took a minute, but he stood up again, moving slowly, adamantly toward her. When he reached the bars, he knelt. She fell to her knees and joined him. He reached through the bars to cup her face. "Your beauty eases me after the cold of the cell."

She tried to hold in a sob, but was unsuccessful, so she simply held his hand against her face. Everything in her wanted to pull him closer to her, to touch more than his hand, but she was afraid to. What had been done to him? The way he moved made it obvious that something had been done to his legs and his chest. They'd probably kicked him. His right eye was still closed and the other was bloodshot and teary. But he stared at her avidly.

"I'm so sorry," she said again, feeling small and inadequate because she had nothing else to offer but her apology. "I've been working on a way to help you escape, but I'm afraid what the repercussions will be."

"You have nothing for which to apologize," he whispered, rubbing a tear from her cheek with his thumb. It took her back to that day when he'd comforted her in Cheshire, all those days and weeks ago. "And I don't want you staging a rescue," he continued. "It won't help anything."

"How can you say that?" she gasped. "Rescuing you means that you won't be put to... to death. What's wrong with that? I can't let you die! I won't!"

"Kalysta, Kalysta, stop," he murmured. "I knew what could happen. We both knew what could happen."

"And I talked you into this," she breathed, tears pouring from her eyes afresh.

"It takes two, dear," he whispered. "I knew what could happen. I don't regret it. I don't. And I don't want you to regret it either. W-when it happens, you have your memories. That's what you wanted, wasn't it?"

"Don't say it like that," she wept.

"I'm sorry," he said, shaking his head. "But I don't want you trying to rescue me. Niall isn't thinking right. I don't want him punishing you, or your family, or Elysium. Perhaps... perhaps my time is up."

"Stop."

"Kalysta, please. Don't try. I mean it. I don't want you to do anything. Just..." He paused, looked at the ground.

"Milady, we need to go," Delia hissed from a little ways down the hall.

"Just a moment," Kalysta said.

Zayn looked back up at her. "I want you to know that I love you, Kalysta. Have loved you. I didn't want to say it before now, because I didn't want to hurt you more, but you need to know."

Kalysta couldn't breathe, let alone speak. Gently, she reached up and skimmed her hand over his forehead to move the hair from his eyes. Just as carefully, she put her hand up to the side of his head and so they knelt there, mirror images of each other, so close, but separated by the enormous chasm of fate.

\--- --- --- --- --- --- --- ---

That evening was another night of dancing and posing as a calm, yet jubilant, fiancée. The worst part was when they were dancing and Niall returned to taunting her. She'd had enough of it.

"So my guards tell me you went to visit my cuckolding brother in his new rooms," he began. "I'd ask if your visit was pleasurable, but I don't think he's in any shape to be entertaining anyone in the sheets. Well, in his case, on the stone floor."

"We're not married yet, beloved," Kalysta ground out, "therefore you can't be a cuckold."

"Oh, I wasn't speaking of your philandering. No, my brother is quite well known for entertaining bored nobles' wives. How does it make you feel to realize that you're the last in a long string of used women?"

"Yet, he's still a better man than you'll ever be." Kalysta spoke before she'd considered the effect her words might have. "How does that make you feel?"

His grip on her hand and waist tightened painfully, and his face was murderous. Had she pushed him too far?

A moment later, he showed an angry smile. "He's a better man, eh? I suppose you're right. And since I'm such a bad man, I might as well lower myself to the standard. If you'll excuse me."

He moved away, in the middle of the song, and abandoned her on the dance floor. It was considered extremely rude in every nation. Of course, he knew that.

She watched him stride out of the banquet hall and prayed to every god she could think of that he wasn't going to go kill Zayn right then.

Zayn's POV

Zayn was awakened abruptly by the rattle of keys against his cell door.

"Get him up!" Niall's sharp voice echoed in the close walls of the cell.

Zayn was pulled to his feet by a couple of guards. A blow to his stomach doubled him over and knocked the wind out of him.

"You're a better man?" Niall hissed. Another punch to his stomach. "That may be. That may be, but you know what? It's because I never got the chance. I never had a chance." The last was a whisper.

Zayn couldn't answer. He could hardly breathe.

"I wanted to hang you on the day of the wedding, brother," Niall continued. "I wanted to punish her, but I don't think you have suffered enough. Even now, the physical pain doesn't bother you, does it? Not like it should. You think it was worth it, being with her, don't you? No, you haven't suffered nearly enough. I don't think I'll hang you that quickly. Instead, you'll get to come to the ceremony, just as you asked. You'll get to watch me marry the woman you love and then agonize the whole time, thinking about how I'll take her myself, in my bed, on my wedding night. As you walk to your gallows, you'll have to try not to think about how it will be my seed she holds, my child she bears, and my heir born to her, not yours. I'll be living the life the two of you wanted to possess and her child will have pale skin like mine, a mockery of what she wishes she could have had, a reminder of what never could be.

"A week from the wedding will be your hanging. And I won't touch you again. From now on, your torture will be purely mental. Enjoy being the better man."


	84. Split Second

Kalysta stayed in her rooms for the next few days when she wasn't being forced to attend things or be around Niall. Twice, he summoned her from her rooms to have her show him around the city or explain Elysian law to him. It was completely unnecessary. They already had the measure of each other so there was no point in keeping company. It was during one of those times that he informed her that he'd moved the date of the hanging.

She tried not to show her relief at the news. Mahir could make it to Velia in time then. Whether or not it would do any good remained to be seen.

She couldn't figure out why Niall had moved the date, not that she would ever complain. Was he having second thoughts about killing his brother? She hoped it wasn't so he could hurt Zayn more. Considering it made her sick with worry. She had no idea what they were doing to him and her imagination wasn't helping.

"Milady, it's time," Delia said the evening before the wedding.

"Time for what?"

Delia removed the cover from a dress that was clearly meant to be Kalysta's for the wedding. It was shiny satin, with small pearls stitched into the neckline, lace on the sleeves and bodice, and a dangerously beautiful accompanying corset. This was what most women dreamed for in a wedding dress.

Kalysta hated it, hated what it represented. "I suppose Niall will have a nice laugh when he sees that it's white."

"No, he won't, because he's still trying to keep everything a secret."

"What needs to be done?" Kalysta sighed.

"I tried to finish work on this away from you, but I need to do the last alterations before tomorrow."

"Must we?"

"Yes. I know this isn't what you want to think about, but it's happening. You need to face it."

"I suppose."

Delia situated her into the dress and cinched the corset in.

"I can hardly breathe," Kalysta gasped.

"You'll only be wearing it for the ceremony. For the celebration afterward you'll put on a new dress, a green one that I've been working on. It's much less severe."

Kalysta looked at her. "Thank you," she sighed. "Thank you for everything. I'd be in a much worse way without your help."

"Oh, Milady, stop," Delia breathed. "You sound... done, like you're giving up. Are you giving up?"

"I'm not giving up. I'm... preparing myself for a real eventuality. I marry Niall tomorrow, the resistance may never organize, let alone be here in time to save Zayn. No, I'll never give up. But I can prepare."

\--- --- --- --- ---

Kalysta imagined that most bride-to-be's woke on the morning of their wedding day with a sense of elation and nervous excitement. She had neither. Instead, she was gripped with a cold dread, a sense of impending doom. It was a poor morning and the day would only get worse.

Delia treated it all with a matter-of-fact manner. She brought in several other maids to help with the readying process and scolded them when they made a big to-do over the dress. "Have some respect for Milady," she snapped. "She's doing a difficult thing here and all your tittering doesn't make it any easier. You especially should know better, Emily."

Kalysta hadn't paid attention to who the maids were there. She'd detected their manner and assumed they were all palace servants or maids for her mother. Now that she thought about, Kalysta couldn't remember seeing Emily more recently. With the girl's current actions in mind, Kalysta was doubly glad she hadn't taken the girl into her confidence.

With her hair intricately braided, curled, and pinned up and strangulating dress in place, Kalysta was ready for her wedding.

Kalysta knelt before the Head Priest, Niall by her side. She repeated the words, feeling numb as she promised to keep herself only for the brute beside her. "As long as breath is in us both," were the words that she held onto. That didn't mean forever.

Their vows recited, he helped her stand, and they faced each other. Her heart pounded. He leaned forward.

The kiss was simple and chase, but repulsed her nevertheless. It marked the beginning of a three-year race against time.

They held hands and turned to the crowd of gathered nobles who applauded. The occasion demanded applause, but only a few showed happiness. Most everyone else brought their hands together in formal, quiet clapping befitting a somber affair.

"Thank you!" her father called out from where he stood to the side. The applause died out quickly. "This union represents the joining of two nations in peaceful accord. It is our hope that the marriage produces continued diplomacy and tethers our nations more strongly through the bonds of family." More applause. "The banquet begins in one hour," he continued. "Thank you for your attendance on this blessed day."

Kalysta separated from Niall, gladly, and allowed herself to be led away to her rooms to prepare for the banquet. It would be her last time in these rooms, for her marriage suite shared with Niall would be much larger and ornate. He'd demanded it.

As Delia had promised, the green gown she donned was much more comfortable, designed to flatter, but lacking a corset. Kalysta was numb as maids helped her into it. She went through the motions and did what they told her. Her mind wouldn't cooperate or function more than that. She couldn't fully comprehend what was going on.

Some part of her had hoped they would find some way to fix the situation before things got this far. Always that hope had been in her. Had this always been going to happen? She'd done everything in her power to prevent it, but she was here anyway. She had no more choices. They'd been taken away from her.

The day passed in a slow blur. It didn't make sense. Her mind let her do the required activities, but nothing more.

The fog in her head lifted that evening as she walked with Niall the marriage suite.

"You've been quiet, wife. If I didn't know you better, I'd say you finally learned your place," he commented, needling her when she was at her most vulnerable. His arm tightened on her hand when she stayed silent.

"Then it's a good thing you know me better," she whispered. She didn't want to feel. She wanted the fog back.

"This would have gone better if you behaved as a woman should."

Kalysta laughed. She couldn't help it. "This would have gone better if you and your father kept your greedy, filthy claws out of other people's business; if you treated others with respect. But no. You think to rule the world, but you are the rancid flesh of a wound, seeping our strength in your need to dominate. You are the problem, not me."

They reached the room then and he didn't answer. Now was a poor time for her to antagonize him.

\--- --- --- --- --- --- ---  
 ** _(WARNING: marital rape referenced)_**

It didn't go well. When she resisted, he breathed the threats he knew would cripple her.

Those first few times were in anger, a way to show his power and dominance. It was nothing like with Zayn, where the pain had a purpose and an end. This pain only served to punish and it endured. She wasn't ready and he didn't care. There was blood, which he commented on the first time, saying, "If I hadn't seen you with him I'd think this was your loss of virtue." Then, he fell asleep, and she was awake to suffer.

She went to the wash room and heaved.

When he woke up it was the second time and he was no gentler than the first. This was almost more painful, her inner wounds bleeding almost immediately. She refused to cry out, but her body wouldn't obey her commands, for tears slipped out.

He left after, wrenching his clothes on and saying, "Get ready for the day. Lying on your back isn't your only duty to this country."

Delia came to her then, helping her to the bath, and holding her close when the sobs couldn't be held in any longer. She talked the whole time, murmuring things like "It's not your fault. You're not to blame," or "What he's done is wrong. You don't deserve this." The words were so applicable it made Kalysta wonder just how Delia knew what to say.

The fog returned, blessedly. She walked about with Niall, saw to every day duties, talked with her parents, attended the wedding feasts, and promptly forgot the day's events. The fog stayed with her after that and she'd have felt grateful if it were in her capacity to feel anything.

\--- --- --- --- --- ---

Louis' POV

"We're in agreement, then?" he asked, staring at the rulers. "You'll stand with us?"

"Yes," King Harry answered. "With the Princess's sacrifice and the threat to the Ambassador, we will join. We will provide men, supplies, and money should this tension develop into war."

"Murdoch won't get away with this," Layla added.

"Thank you, Your Majesties! I will be on my way then." Louis bowed. "I would advise sending what men and supplies you have to Thomas in Etharia. He will organize them there.

"Mahir, let's go. We have plans to realize. Let's hope we can make it in time."

"Wait!" Layla called. "I have a message that needs delivered as well."

\--- --- --- ---

Kalysta's POV

The following times, for the rest of the week of marriage festivities, he came to her in bed as if it were a task that needed accomplishing. He didn't say anything anymore and he fell asleep quickly when he was done. She welcomed this, for it made it easier to put her emotions aside and detach.

It wasn't happening. She could tell herself that.

The day before the hanging arrived. She was in pain, sitting at the high table at the banquet in the evening, but she gave no indication. Her mind could distance her from her physical pain as well as her mental pain.

Her fog faded for just a bit when someone came with news for her alone.

"Princess?" The butler was leaning over next to her. "There's a woman here to see you. I explained you were celebrating your marriage festivities, but she said you would want to speak with her."

"Who is she?"

"She stands at the door."

Kalysta looked to the double doors and was surprised to see Beatrice. She stifled a gasp. Everything in her was on high alert. What was she doing in Elysium? She had to admit that seeing Beatrice was comforting, though, a reminder of a better time, a simpler time.

She turned to Niall, who had been essentially ignoring her the entire dinner, to beg his pardon at her coming absence.

"Yes, wife, go to the powder room," he dismissed.

She didn't dawdle. She moved quickly to where Beatrice waited.

"Follow me, madam," she commanded. Allowing Beatrice to fall in behind her, she led the way to the council chambers and then checked to make sure they weren't followed before closing the door behind them.

"Hello, Princess Kalysta," Beatrice greeted. "I must say that these clothes suit you much better than your other ones. If I'd known who you were, I could have arranged much more proper dress for you."

Kalysta grabbed Beatrice and hugged her tightly, surprising them both. "It's so good to see you!" she gasped, trying to hold in tears.

"Mercy, Princess!" Beatrice exclaimed. "What is going on?"

"I've been so..." Kalysta breathed carefully. "Please tell me Mahir found Louis. Please! They're- He's- Niall is sending Zayn to the gallows tomorrow and that can't happen! I won't let it happen."

"Here, Princess." Beatrice passed over a letter.

Kalysta ripped it open, not bothering to look at the seal. There was a single line and a signature:

_Keep hope; help comes_  
_Layla_

"What does this mean?" Kalysta spouted. "Zayn is to be hung in the morning! What could they possibly be able to do before that?!"

"I'm not sure, Milady," Beatrice said. "Louis sent me off with this the minute he came to me, the scoundrel, and said I had to ride with all haste. That man is simply the most ridiculous, insistent, and..."

Kalysta stopped paying attention to what the woman was saying. Desolation and loss enveloped her. What more could be done? It was over. "This can't happen!" she sobbed, dropping the letter, rubbing her eyes, and then clutching her temples. "I can't let it happen. I can't do this without him."

Beatrice stepped forward and snatched the letter from the floor. "Look here, Princess. It says 'Keep hope.' Why the tears?"

"I love him," Kalysta whispered. "I love him." Saying those words was practically a death sentence for her soul, for surely she would die if he did.

"The only person it's news to is you," Beatrice snorted.

Kalysta gave a mirthless laugh that turned into a sob. "And this news changes nothing. Zayn still goes to his death tomorrow and Niall wins."

The tears fell more freely now, as if her very being were leaking from her in waves.

"Princess, stop," Beatrice said quietly. "Keep. Hope. This isn't over and don't you dare give up."

"Thank you for delivering this, Beatrice," Kalysta replied, ignoring what the woman said. "I'll see you are provided a room and you can leave in the morning. Unless you'd like to stay for an execution?"

She turned and left the room.

That evening with her abuser was just as the others at first.

Once he'd finished, though, Niall seemed ashamed. He turned from her and sat on the edge of the bed, his shoulders slumping and bowing inward as if his actions were weighing him down. That couldn't be true however. She doubted he could feel any remorse for anything.

He stood and left their suite, though it was the middle of the night.

Kalysta couldn't complain.

Morning light had barely broken when he returned. Something was different. His eyes were red and his demeanor had lessened considerably.

Immediately, he climbed up on the bed to join her. He was still fully dressed, but he hovered over her, placing a kiss on her lips for the first time since the wedding. It was gentle, careful, apologetic.

"I'm sorry," he whispered when she failed to respond. "I'm terribly sorry." He kissed her again, then ran his lips over her cheek and down to her chin. He continued, running his hands along her in a gentle manner that completely belied his earlier actions.

She fought the urge to vomit. This was worse than the pain. What could he possibly hope to achieve with this? What was his end plan?

He continued, kissing along her neck and down her body tenderly. It was so like Zayn that she tried to close her eyes and imagine herself with him. However, the moment she closed her eyes, Niall dug his teeth into the side of her breast. "You're not allowed to go elsewhere," he breathed. "You're right here. And you'll know who you're with."

It was cruel, more cruel than anything else he'd done. She hated herself, hated the way her body naturally responded to the touch. He didn't hurt her anymore, simply caressed her everywhere, gently. Nothing was done internally, but forcing her to feel that rising physical pleasure shattered her will more than any agony of pain.

She openly cried for the first time since they'd been married and he stopped.

"I'm sorry," he repeated, like she could ever believe him.

"Why? Wasn't the pain enough?" she breathed. "Why?" She turned from him and curled her arms around herself, trying to hold in the pieces of herself that seemed to be splintering. She heard him sit up in bed and sigh.

"I-I remembered my mother," he returned quietly. "Whatever anyone thinks, I love my mother."

"That... that's disgusting."

" _No_ -I-Not like that. No. I remembered her circumstances. She was forced to marry my father when she was only a few years older than we are. She loved someone else before and-and probably was treated like-like that by my father. Whatever I am, I'm not my father. I'm not my father."

She could only muster pity for his mother. He would receive none.

"No, you're worse than your father," Kalysta breathed.

"I'm not what everyone says," he returned, his voice hollow. "My father is the one. He's the one who does all this, and he wants me to follow in his footsteps. I'm not him, though."

"No. You're as horrible as he. You take what you want and you don't care. Don't act like you're a saint. I know you had women and killed because you got them with child, devil."

"No!" Niall cried. His voice was pained. "No, I would never do that! There were... some women with child but I sent them away! My father wanted differently, but I wouldn't do that. He spread the rumors that they were killed. I would never do such a thing. I'm sorry for what I've done to you. I'm sorry. I wish it undone."

"I don't want your apologies," Kalysta snapped, clutching the blanket around her as a shield. He would get angry at her words, she knew.

"I told you about my mother," he whispered. "You're the only woman I've ever told. You're the only one I've shown emotions to. That has to mean something. It means something."

It was like he was coming to some realization in his mind, but she didn't want to hear it.

"It means you're a dreadful pall of a man."

"And my brother is so much better?" he hissed, turning back around to look at her.

"Do you think my blood on your manhood means you are more in anyone's eyes?" She turned to face him. She couldn't stop talking. Everything in her knew that enraging him would only make it worse, but she couldn't stop. "I can tell you it doesn't. Your brother is everything you'll never be."

The slap of his hand didn't hurt any less than it had before. Her cheek stung, and she tasted blood in her mouth. He gripped her chin tightly in his hand.

"You foul bitch!" he spat venomously. "I apologized!" His hand on her chin gripped harder and it felt like he would break her jaw.

Without warning, he pushed away from her and stood. His exit this time was accompanied by the slamming of the door.

The weather was pleasant, opposing the severity and somber mood of the day.

Zayn was to be executed today. She would have to watch.

She got dressed. Niall hadn't returned. No matter what the man said, he was still a monster.

She couldn't believe he'd asked forgiveness of her after what he'd done, after what he'd threatened to do, and in light of what was happening that day. It was unforgiveable. Hearing about his mother hadn't done anything but strengthen her resolve. That he could do as he had after knowing what happened to his mother meant he was capable of many other atrocities. Empathy was an after-the-fact emotion for the man, if he felt it at all.

The pain in her body was a constant reminder of the Prince's ills, and somehow it wasn't nearly as powerful as the pain that crushed the air from her chest whenever she thought of Zayn. Another hope had failed, however slight it was. She wanted to believe that help would come, but once more, the fates were against her.

\--- --- --- --- ---

**_(END of the references to marital rape)_ **

She perched on the dais in a gilded seat next to Niall. Her parents were seated in smaller chairs next to her. She didn't remember how she got there, really. Time flew by and then stopped without her consent.

While time was stopped, she took a moment to look around her. The crowd stretched between them and the gallows, but she could still clearly see everything on the wooden pedestal, down to the coarse fibers of the rope tied in the hangman's knot.

Her heart stuttered as the crowds parted.

Zayn walked, led between two guards. He looked shrunken. His injuries had healed some, with no new ones to mar his face, but he seemed smaller. He plodded forward.

Each step of his ascension to the gallows was like a step closer to her own death. Had what they done been so wrong? In another life, it wouldn't have mattered. But this life saw her a slave to her country. As always, politics trumped love in the war for social import, but it hadn't won the war for her heart. Her heart was her own.

The trio walked onto the raised platform of the gallows and it wasn't until they'd positioned him over the drop panel that he finally stood tall before them.

His head held high, he turned to look upon her as the noose was slipped around his neck.

The sorrow in his eyes made it even harder to breathe. They'd had a time of happiness. Even though she had made recompense for their actions, he would pay the ultimate price.

She almost fell from the dais. She couldn't do this. She couldn't allow this to happen to him. She trembled in her seat and looked at the man beside her, pleading with her eyes for what she could not say with her voice.

Niall looked down at her, his blue eyes cold and pitiless.

"You knew the consequences," he said quietly. "You ruined your lives anyway."

She looked back to where Zayn stood, just as a black bag snuffed his face from view. Her anguish was audible. She bit her lip to keep tears from falling, but her chest heaved with the force of her emotion. Her grip on the arms of her seat was tight enough to drain her fingers of color.

"Please," she whispered. She looked to Niall again and for once he appeared uneasy. He was shifting in his seat and breathing heavily.

The short rope meant Zayn was to suffocate as opposed to dying quickly from a long drop. It was grisly and cruel. And she couldn't allow it.

The executioner looked to Niall.

There was a long pause before the Prince nodded his assent.

The lever was pulled and gave a sharp thud, countered by the motion of Zayn dropping.

His legs thrashed grotesquely and Kalysta clutched her hands over her mouth to keep from screaming. She couldn't stand it. She couldn't stand the sight, and she couldn't look away.

Eternity passed and his body slowed its movements.

It was too much. She had to put a stop to this. She stood and pulled a knife from her bodice. What she could do with it, she wasn't sure, because it wasn't a throwing knife. But she couldn't just sit there as the man she loved died.

An uproar started almost the second she rose, but not related to her actions. Several men, masked and dressed in dark apparel, leaped from behind the gallows. One dispatched the executioner and another cut the rope. Zayn dropped into the man's arms.

Everyone was engrossed in this turn of events, Niall included. It was the split-second of calm before a storm.

And Kalysta would use that split-second.

She had her knife.

She turned and, with one swift slash, opened Niall's throat from ear to ear with her knife.

And the world erupted in chaos.


	85. Peaceful Lie

Niall clasped a hand over his neck. She didn't have the strength to cut deeply, but the breadth of it was sufficient to do the job. Blood poured out from around his clutched hand, and he collapsed sideways to the ground. As he fell, he grabbed at her sleeve with his other hand and she dropped to her knees next to him, trying to free herself from his grip.

She did her best to avoid it, but she couldn't help looking into his eyes.

There was no malice there, as she would have expected. Instead, his eyes seemed to hold fear, pain, and sorrow. His grip on her sleeve released and he grabbed her hand instead, clutching it like it was his salvation. He tapped it against his chest and mouthed something to her, making choking sounds that grew more and more muffled. His insistent look captured her and he tried mouthing the words one more time.

"You're sorry?" she asked, trying to watch the movement of his lips.

He nodded and his mouth gaped for a moment as he tried to draw breath. His body shook in spasms and fear was in his eyes again.

He was clearly terrified at passing, the thought of death having no sense of peace with it.

She could give him peace; even if it was a lie.

"I forgive you," she whispered. "I forgive you."

His clutch about her hand tightened in response and he looked up at her with relief. As the labor of his breathing grew, she couldn't help feeling a loss at this, a horror at what she'd done.

She held his hand until the grip loosened completely and his eyes stared unseeing into the sky.


	86. One More Hour

Chaos.

Chaos was good.

Kalysta threw the knife aside, stood, and hitched up her skirts so she could leap from the dais.

People were scattering, unsure what was going on. Armored men with drawn swords had surrounded the area. No one could figure out if there was an attack, who would be attacking, or from where the attack would occur. Shrieks and fearful cries echoed around the courtyard.

She didn't care. All that mattered was reaching Zayn. After what had happened she deserved to be able to put him first and hang the consequences. Someone else could take care of things for a change.

Upon reaching the gallows, she saw one of the rescuers kneeling over Zayn and patting his cheek. He looked familiar

When she tried to approach them she was stopped by a man she didn't recognize. He held a knife out, stopping her.

"Let her through!" the man kneeling next to Zayn called out.

She recognized the voice.

"Let the Princess through!"

As soon as the guard lowered his knife she rushed to Zayn.

"He's breathing. He's alive. But he won't respond." The kneeling man was Louis, the one who had cut Zayn down from the gallows.

She picked up Zayn's head and placed it in her lap so he could be comfortable. It was a ludicrous sentiment, considering the situation, but she couldn't help it.

Louis continued patting Zayn's face. "Wake up, Zayn ol' chum. I'm not letting you go out this way."

Kalysta ran a hand over his hair and face. "I'm here, Zayn," she croaked, tapping him on the chest. She didn't know how to wake him up. He was alive, but he wasn't moving. "Wake up, Zayn," she breathed next. "I love you. I love you. Don't leave me. I couldn't bear it if you left me. I love you, Zayn, please."

He didn't rouse.

"Princess, he needs a healer," Louis urged, "and you need to take charge of the situation. Someone's going to get hurt."

"I don't care," she hissed, running a hand over Zayn's face.

"You don't have the luxury of apathy." Louis's voice was full of censure. "You're their Princess. You need to fix this."

She tried to take a deep breath, but her lungs wouldn't cooperate. Her chest heaved for a moment, until she gave up getting a proper breath. She gently slipped away from Zayn, placing his head down with extreme care. He was alive. That was what mattered.

She stood and gestured to Louis. "Give me your sword," she ordered.

He handed it over without question.

The sword was heavy, but she could wield it for the purpose she needed. She heaved it up and pitched it to the ground from where she stood on the platform of the gallows. It caused an ear-splitting racket as it struck the stone.

The nobles and few commoners cowered at the noise, but every eye was on her.

"Quiet!" she yelled, holding her hands up. "Everyone calm down!" To the resistance guards she said, "Put away your swords, men. We are allies here." When the clamoring of voices and sheathing blades faded, she spoke again. "I know there is much confusion. These newcomers are members of the other nations of Dalitrise. They are here to help us. This seems strange, I know, but all will be explained in time. Stay calm, return to your homes, and cooperate with them. Once we sort out what has happened here, you will be fully informed as to what is going on. You have my thanks."

The clamor of voices rose again, everyone wanting to ask her questions, but she turned and went back to Zayn. They had their orders. It would have to do.

He still hadn't opened his eyes. She knelt beside him again and at that moment, Delia rushed toward them.

"Oh, get out of my way, welp," Delia snapped at the resistance guard who tried to block her way. "I'm the Princess's personal maid." When he stepped aside she rushed over and knelt next to Kalysta. "This isn't good," she breathed. She put a thumb against Zayn's eyelid and lifted, looking in that eye and then doing the same to the other. "We need to get him to the infirmary immediately."

Louis turned to the guard. "You heard her. Put out the alert that we need to move him up to the infirmary. Find someone."

Mahir arrived then with several burly men that appeared to be Velian. "Great Vatna, help him," he prayed.

"Lay out your coats," Louis ordered. "Make a litter and we'll carry him out."

Her father turned up at that moment, with Elias and Vermes, his personal guards. "Kalysta!" he called. "What is going on? Who are these people and why are they here! Tell me!"

"Father, I don't have time to explain," Kalysta returned, staring him in the eye and letting her face show just how serious she was. "Go. Gather the council and arrange a meeting. I will be there as soon as possible. All will be revealed then."

He opened his mouth to protest, but shook his head and did as she said, moving away and calling to various people.

The burly Velians had formed their makeshift litter in this time and placed Zayn on it. Kalysta joined the procession of people taking him up to the infirmary. She would ensure he was in the best care before going to explain the situation to her confused countrymen.

\--- --- --- --- --- ---

"Who all is here?" she asked Louis as they rushed through the castle.

"A hand-picked team of members from the different countries, myself, Mahir, and King Thomas."

"I need everyone with any authority in the council chambers as soon as possible. You remember where those are, correct?"

"Yes. Let's get him arranged for first."

"Of course."

"What's the meaning of this?" a physician protested when they burst into the infirmary.

"Help him!" Kalysta ordered, moving to the front so she could be seen. "I need you to take care of the Ambassador. He is close to death."

"Yes, Princess," the physician replied, bowing. "Over here." He took over then, gesturing toward a bed and then barking orders to various assistants for things he'd need.

King Thomas swept into the infirmary just then. "Blast it all, Louis, did we make it in time?" he bellowed.

"That remains to be seen!" Louis called back.

"I can't have all this noise!" It was the physician this time. "Everyone out that isn't trained in medicinal practices!"

Kalysta saw Thomas and her mind seemed to snap.

She fairly threw herself at him and struck him across the face as hard as she could. His reflexes came to play, then, and he caught her next attempt before she made contact. He gripped both her wrists in his powerful hands, preventing her from striking him again.

"You coward!" she shrieked, wrenching at her arms and trying to free herself. "This is your fault, you gutless, hypocritical cur! Why wouldn't you help before?" Tears coursed from her eyes, blinding her in her rage. This man showed up now, after everything she'd been through, while Zayn was lying close to death, and expressed concern?

"Calm yourself, Princess," Louis yelled, wrapping his arms around her and pulling her away.

She fought against him for a moment, but something else distracted the entire room.

Another litter was brought in, then, bearing a casualty of the confusion. There was a cloth over the face, but Kalysta knew instinctively that this casualty was Niall. She stopped moving, feeling poleaxed. The idea of facing what she'd done made her heart stop in fear and stole the very breath from her lungs. Her legs gave out from under her and she collapsed.

"Princess!" Louis cried out, lowering her to the ground. "Get up, Princess."

She sucked in a great gulp of air and released a sob. It was too overwhelming. Too many emotions and thoughts were ripping through her. She couldn't process them all.

"Princess, I need you to stand up," Louis breathed, kneeling next to her. "Stand up. I need you strong for another hour. One more hour is all I need, and then you can shut down. You can rest. But I need you right now. Stand up. One more hour, that's all."

She put a hand over her mouth and choked back the hysterical sobs threatening to burst from her. She stood, leaning on Louis for support.

One more hour.

She would have to find the strength for it.


	87. The Comfort of Untruths

Louis led her out of the infirmary.

She heard Thomas fall in behind them, but he stayed out of her line of sight. Smart man. In a small way she regretted behaving so violently, but she wasn't in the best of moods.

"Delia!" she called, remembering something vital to the reveal of the resistance.

"Yes, Milady?" Delia scurried to catch up with them.

"You hid the letters, right?" Kalysta asked.

"Yes."

"Grab them for me, please."

"Of course."

Delia went the other way.

Louis continued leading Kalysta toward the council chambers. She knew the way, but her mind was in jumbles. No single thought stayed in her mind long and she certainly couldn't concentrate.

Kalysta stopped before they reached the doors.

"Come on, Princess, there's no point in putting it off," Louis encouraged, pulling on her arm gently.

"I need the letters." Kalysta didn't budge.

"Very well," he sighed.

Kalysta made sure to face toward the door and ignore the King standing behind her. Louis did not share the same sentiment.

"Thomas, I think this will go better if I do all the talking," he offered quietly.

"Does my low opinion of Elysian royalty not lend itself well to making friends?" Thomas gasped, feigning surprise.

Kalysta felt her shoulders tighten as she contained her building anger. Everything he said was intended to enrage her further most likely. She wanted nothing more than to hit him again, but he would be on his guard for sure now. One could only get away with striking a King so many times too. He might not be so tolerant if she tried it again.

"Just stay silent unless I call on you specifically, please," Louis sighed. "You have a purpose for being here and it is most definitely not to tell Jonathan how you feel about him."

"What a shame, because I would love to tell hi-"

"That's quite enough, thank you," Louis cut in.

Delia joined them, much to Kalysta's relief; it was just a matter of time before Kalysta's self-control crumbled with the rest of her.

"Here, Milady," Delia said, handing her the two envelopes.

"Thank you, Delia. You can go if you wish."

"I'd rather wait here for you."

Kalysta breathed in deeply and sighed before whispering, "Thank you. I'd like to go back and look after Zayn once I'm done here."

"The physician would have had time to look at him by then."

"Zayn?" Thomas interjected. "That's a bit intimately familiar if I do say so myself."

"Sod off, Your Majesty," Kalysta replied simply before opening the door to the council chambers.

She stepped in and went directly to her seat next to her father.

Several extra chairs had been brought in, two of which Louis and Thomas took.

"It's about time that all of this was explained," her father began. "There is foreign military on Elysian soil and foreign nobles at the council table. Who are you and what is the meaning of all this?"

Louis stood and bowed. "My name is Louis, first son of Aram and Eloise of Wolvecaster. My brother holds the throne and I am here on his behalf. Seated to my right is-"

"King Thomas of Velia," her father interjected. "Never has another ruler stepped foot in my country without my say."

Now that it was brought to mind, Kalysta remembered that another ruler coming unwelcomed by the king was considered a precursor to war.

"Well, considering the ilk you do entertain, I am quite pleased not to have been invited previously," Thomas growled, leaning back and crossing his arms.

"Stow it, Thomas!" Kalysta snapped, sick of it all. "Neither your petulance nor your prolonged grudge serve the resistance." She saw him turn to Louis and mouth 'Petulance?' before returning his gaze to her. "We'll take your insult on the record as a sign that you distrust Elysian rulership. From here on, unless you have something to offer by way of information or ideas, keep a gag in it.

"Shall we proceed?" she offered. This had already become tedious. "The short version of this, is that there has been a small resistance trying to organize since Murdoch set his eyes on conquering Dalitrise. Ambassador Zayn was the drawing point. He built it and had begun going to the rulers to persuade them to join. It was intended to be assembled for the purpose of standing up to Murdoch, stopping his wandering eyes, and perhaps freeing Bradford. However, all the blasted rulers in the other nations sat on their hands and refused to help because they were too afraid they might have to get those hands dirty to prevent an all-out war." She stopped briefly to give Thomas a withering look. "The Ambassador's reluctance to approach Elysium in joining the resistance stemmed from the suspicions that my father took a bribe from Murdoch. This was a bribe wherein was promised that Elysium would remain untouched as long as my father stayed out of Murdoch's dealings with Bradford."

This was interrupted as each of the council members gasped and began yelling at once.

"Quiet!" Kalysta yelled, pounding her fist on the table. "We don't have time for this! We need to establish what our next move will be. With the treaty void, Murdoch won't just step away. He'll probably attack as soon as possible."

"That's why I'm here," Thomas volunteered. "It will take some time for Murdoch to organize any kind of force and we can use that time. I am offering my expertise in the ways of battle. I can train your men while the rest of the resistance builds itself."

"Every nation is going to stand against Murdoch?" her father asked incredulously. "I have a hard time believing that."

"I have letters here," Kalysta offered, holding them up for the room to see, "from King Naseer of Bradford and King Liam of Wolvecaster promising support of the resistance."

"I bear a similar one from Harry of Cheshire," Louis spoke up.

"And I believe my presence speaks for itself." Thomas smiled mockingly.

"We can't all fight as separate entities," Kalysta pointed out. "There needs to be a central leader, appointed by us all, who can coordinate supplies, soldiers, and battle field strategy."

"Well, if all the rulers know Ambassador Zayn, then he's the obvious choice." Her father was trying to come to terms with the wealth of information being thrown at him and make sense of it.

"Are we going to ignore the most pressing question at the moment?" Duke Crothers asked quietly. "What happened to Niall? Your resistance shows up and suddenly he's dead? How does that benefit us? Murdoch will be all-the-more provoked."

Kalysta tried to keep calm. Should she admit to killing him? Would there be consequences? Her heart pounded in her chest. How did they not know it was her doing? It's not as if she was secretive about it.

"I saw him dispatched by a resistance person around the time the Ambassador was freed," her father announced quickly. "Most everyone else was distracted by the gallows, but I was seated next to my daughter. I saw it happen. She held the Prince's hand as he passed."

Kalysta looked down, noticing the smears of dried blood on her palms. She'd made herself a widow. Her breath caught in her throat.

Her father was lying outright, though. He had been standing right next to her, and he would have seen anything. Why would he lie?

Just then, he reached over, below the table where no one could see, and grasped her hand tightly. He was trying to comfort her. And he was lying for her.

It relieved some of the pressure in her mind and she was immensely grateful. She wasn't ready to face this. She would probably never be ready.

"Will you see to this?" she whispered to him, making a decision abruptly.

"Of course," he replied, squeezing her hand again. "I'll take care of this, if you like."

She stood. "I take my leave now," she announced. "I leave the care of Elysium to my father to take care of, since you are all acquainted."

"You're going to leave now?" Thomas snorted.

"Yes, I am," she snapped. "You lost your right to give an opinion on my decisions when you left me to marry that abominable brute. I've done my part. It's time you did yours."

She walked out and Delia was waiting.

"Let's go see him," Kalysta whispered, "and find out what there is to bedone."


	88. Anger, Sadness, Healing

When they reached the infirmary, Kalysta ignored the corpse in its bed and went straight to where the physician stood next to Zayn.

"What have you discovered?" she asked. She got close to Zayn and grabbed his hand, needing to feel his warmth and life.

"I have a dead man over there and one on his way to it here," the physician breathed. "I don't know what you expect me to do, Princess."

"I expect you to save him!" she returned angrily. "That's your job and I don't care for any excuses." His comparing Zayn to Niall made her breath catch.

"Princess, death has its grip on him."

"And what will that mean?"

"He was hanged!" the physician exclaimed. "He went too long without air! Right now, his body has put him into a sleep like death. I've seen men wake up from it fully recovered; others woke up and weren't right in the head anymore; and still some stayed this way until death took them for certain. There's no way of knowing for sure. I don't think he will make it a week, though. He isn't responding to any vocal or pain stimulus. It's out of my hands! I have no control over what happens from here."

"There has to be something!" Kalysta snapped. "He's still living, still breathing!"

"Just because the body lives doesn't mean the soul does." His voice was soft, careful.

"Don't say that," she breathed. "I won't accept that." Her chest was heavy, every inhalation difficult.

"I'm sorry, Princess. I'm not sure what import he holds, but I'm sorry. Time will tell. But know this, the longer he sleeps like this the less likely he is to wake." He stepped back, bowing, and moved away.

Delia reached out and grasped her arm. "Milady, all we can do is wait. Why don't you come back to your rooms and get some sleep?"

"My rooms?" Kalysta's laugh had a hysterical edge. "You mean the marriage suite? I'd rather not."

"I mean your old rooms, of course," Delia replied earnestly.

"No." Kalysta shook her head vigorously. "I'll stay here with him for now."

"And do what? He can't talk."

"But what if he's aware? I want him to know that I'm here."

"And what if his mind is gone? That's a harsh possibility, but you can't spend your time here when things need doing."

"What needs doing?" Kalysta asked angrily. "We're facing war! We are going to go to war with Mullingar. What possible use could I be? I know nothing of battle, nothing of rule besides what my father pretended to relinquish to me."

"Elysium needs your temperance and your justice!" Delia cried. "I know you, and I've seen the behavior of many a ruler in my time. This continent dances on a ledge. You are needed as a buffer between the egos of the kings. The people look to you. More than ever, we need you."

"Haven't I done enough?" Kalysta's voice hitched as she held in a sob. "Why do I have to fix everything?"

"Oh, Milady, I know." Delia pulled her into a tight embrace. "You have had to give so much of yourself."

They stood that way for a minute, Delia hugging tight and Kalysta simply trying to hold herself together.

"You deserve a break at least," Delia admitted. "Sit." She released her and grabbed a chair, dragging it over to set next to Zayn's bed. "Relax for a moment. If the exhaustion catches up with you, there are plenty of beds."

"Get... get _him_ out of here," Kalysta whispered, sitting in the chair.

"I'll see that it's taken care of," Delia promised. "Don't worry about a thing."

So Kalysta sat and held Zayn's hand. At first she spoke to him, but she found herself more discouraged by his lack of response than anything else.

Eventually, she slumped in the chair and passed into a fitful sleep.

\--- --- --- --- --- --- --- ---

She awoke terrified. There was no retained memory of the dream that had so frightened her, but the sensation persisted. It was some time before she could muster the fortitude to open her eyes fully and move.

The darkness out the window and the lit candles indicated it was nighttime. How long had she slept?

Moving hurt after sleeping in the hard chair, but she did anyway. An urge to check on Zayn gripped her. She ignored her protesting joints and muscles and reached out to touch his hand. The warmth there assuaged her fear that he'd passed as the physician had posited.

She looked about further. Delia had done as promised, having Niall's body removed. That thought sickened her, so she pushed it away for something else.

A woman sat in a chair at the end of the row of beds. She rifled through papers in her lap and mumbled unintelligible phrases. Most likely she was a night watch who would check on Zayn regularly and report any significant changes.

Kalysta didn't want to speak to anyone yet. She couldn't function properly at the moment. Her mind was still reeling in circles, trying to process the past week, all while she did her best to avoid thinking of Niall entirely. It was confusing and difficult and she simply wanted to separate from her mind for a while.

It was with this thought that she slipped over into the bed next to Zayn's and wrapped herself in the covers. For some reason, the encompassing warmth of the blankets comforted her incredibly, as if they could keep the bad memories from creeping in and the world from encroaching on her mourning process.

That warmth and comfort helped pull her into sleep once again.

\--- --- --- --- --- --- ---

The physician woke her next.

"Princess, stop!" he cried, shaking her. "I can't have this noise! If you want any possibility of the Ambassador recovering to be realized, he needs peace. Your screaming won't allow that, I promise."

"I-I was screaming?" she whispered, breathing heavily.

"Yes. I must ask you to leave if you can't keep in accordance with a calm milieu."

"Get me Delia," she ordered, pulling the blanket up to block the sun and everything else from view.

She heard him move away and just a bit later Delia was gently tugging her covers back.

"Come, Milady," Delia said softly. "Let's get you cleaned up."

Kalysta let Delia lead her back to her old rooms and put her into the bath. She settled into the warm water and looked down at the last traces of blood in the creases of her hand.

She scrubbed at the dark brown confirmation of her guilt obsessively, wishing she could wash away the stains on her soul so easily. Why did it hurt so much? He'd been a horrible person, and his death was a blessing, an alleviation of her suffering, or so she'd thought. How did he haunt her more in death than his abuse had in life?

She didn't realize she was crying until Delia began running a hand over her hair and making soothing noises. Her tears fell unchecked and she let herself grieve, though for what she wasn't certain. Was it Niall? The loss of her own perceived innocence? Zayn's precarious condition? She supposed it didn't matter. It hurt, whatever it was that weighed her down so.

The next few days passed without much incident, and it seemed the glorious fog of her mind had returned. She spent every waking moment holding Zayn's hand and every evening in the bed next to his in the infirmary. Delia stayed with her now, without being asked, waking her when the terrors of her mind overtook her dreams and making sure she ate. Kalysta turned her father, her mother, and Louis away, refusing to hold more than brief conversations with them.

The nightmares began to solidify in her memory when she woke. Following one particularly horrible dream, she lost any desire to close her eyes again. She was haunted by it.

This dream didn't hold the quality that most did, the perception that what happened was fake. Everything felt very real. At first, her father appeared before her in her mind.

"How could you chastise me when your own selfishness will be what destroys us?" His face was cruel and angry. It didn't feel like a dream at all. "You're the reason Elysium will fall."

His face morphed into Zayn's, who looked gaunt, haggard, and pained. The purple scarred ligature marks on his neck stood out in great contrast to the rest of his skin.

"This is your fault," Zayn hissed at her. "You walk away from this unharmed and I almost got killed for you. Isn't that just how you like things? It all works out for you and others have to pay the consequences for your petty foolishness. I should have known this would happen if I got involved with you. Everything good around you dies. And Niall is proof that the bad things die too. No one really lives while you're around."

The wounds in her soul ripped deeper with each word. Her subconscious wasn't done either.

Zayn's face melted away and a bright light shown in its stead, so bright she had to look away. When the light faded, she looked back and Niall was before her.

"Why?" he breathed. Blood pulsed from the fresh slice in his throat and each breath he took made more flow out. The sorrowful look he'd held in death was displayed to her as well. "Why?" he asked again. "I apologized. I shouldn't have hurt you. I know that. I'm not like my father, but you didn't give me the chance to show you. I'm dead and you can't take that back. You can't bring me back. Why was I forced to die for your sins?"

Kalysta woke and sat up straight in bed, a cold sweat drenching her body and sheets. She felt like she was drowning again and it took her right back to that night when she'd been swept off the ship. Her lungs refused to pull in air and her hands shook. The tears she wanted to cry refused to be shed. She needed air to release the sobs that were stuck in her throat, but she couldn't breathe.

It took sitting on the edge of the bed and leaning forward, elbows on knees, for her to pull in a labored breath. Once she got one breath it wasn't enough. Her inhalations were short and quick and she felt light-headed.

Delia approached her then. "Milady, what's wrong?" she asked. She sat next to Kalysta on the bed.

"It's not enough that he tortured me in life, he has to torture me from the grave as well." Once Kalysta spoke, the sobs flowed out of her. The tears spilled down her cheeks unchecked. "And he won't leave me alone. I see him every time I sleep, blood seeping from his neck and that accusatory expression that kills me inside."

"Oh, milady!" Delia gasped, pulling Kalysta into her arms. "Don't give that abhorrent brute the credit of affecting you. Please. He hurt you, don't let him continue to do it."

"He already destroyed me," Kalysta sobbed. "I can't function. Everywhere I go I carry him with me and the reminder that I'm to blame for Zayn's affliction."

"You mustn't think that way," Delia pressed. "We all make mistakes, but sometimes fate has more to do with our troubles than anything we could foresee. Zayn knew what could happen. That Prince was profoundly cruel in his dealings with everyone. Do you imagine he would have treated you well without the stimulus of jealousy? It wouldn't have been much better than what happened. You are in no way responsible for what has happened."

Kalysta knew the woman was trying to comfort her, but she felt too guilty. This was too big. She'd almost gotten Zayn killed and had successfully dispatched her own husband. What kind of person would do that? Niall was right; she couldn't take back what she'd done.

"Thank you, Delia, I'm feeling much better," Kalysta lied, leaning out of her embrace. "I'm sorry to have woken you."

"That's no trouble at all," Delia rushed. "Try to get some sleep." She stood and moved away again.

The next day, the infirmary had an unexpected visitor.

Thomas arrived merely moments after Delia had left to stretch her legs. The physician was out for a bit as well and Kalysta knew it wasn't an accident that he was here when it was just her and Zayn. What could he want now?

"Good morning, Princess," he greeted, coming over to stand on the other side of Zayn's bed. "How fair you?"

"I'm quite well, actually," Kalysta lied, refusing to look up at him. She simply looked at Zayn's hand clutched between her own. "What brings you to the infirmary?"

"Well, I am here to inform you that Prince Niall's funeral is to be held later today."

"We can't simply send him back to Mullingar?" Kalysta breathed. "Murdoch will be even more incensed if we keep his son's body after such an untimely demise."

"It's funny you bring that up, Princess," he chuckled. "I talked with Commander Tomlinson and he told me a surprising detail." She looked up at him and his face was full of barely suppressed glee. "He said that he explicitly gave orders not to harm the Prince. He wanted to use him as a bargaining tool and, as you can imagine, that necessitates life."

Kalysta didn't feel well. She didn't want to think of this, let alone discuss it with such a provoking man. Why had he settled on her as the culprit?

"Now, that begs the question of, who killed the Prince then?" Thomas continued. "My men have all reported that they did not even approach the royal dais until it was discovered he'd been killed. That's strange, don't you think, Your Highness?"

She stayed silent.

"Come now, Princess, you were never one to hold your tongue. Don't start now."

"What do you want from me?" she snapped. "Do you want a confession? Do you want me to admit that I made myself a widow? Am I supposed to feel sorry for dispatching our bargaining chip? Because you will not see sorrow from me."

"Yet your eyes are full of tears at this subject. I can see them, waiting to fall." He stared into her avidly.

"All that means is that you aren't blind, because I'm doing nothing to hide them." Kalysta was tired of this man and his pompous manner. She was tired of everything. "Did I not have ample reason to want him dead? That man was a monster and the things he di-" Her voice broke, but she continued staring at him. "I won't apologize. It needed to be done, no matter my conflicting emotions on the subject. I refuse to apologize."

Thomas's face went from mocking to satisfied. "There you go," he encouraged, crossing his arms. "I needed to hear that. But more so I think you needed to say it. You will receive no judgment, no censure from me. It is as you spoke: it needed to be done. And who better to do it that the one who suffered the most at his hand?"

Kalysta lowered her head, the weight of what she'd done bearing down.

Thomas moved around the bed and approached her. "It is never easy to take a life," he whispered, crouching next to her, "even one such as his. Mourn the part of your soul that shattered at the deed, but do not berate yourself. If it wasn't you, it would have been someone else. Be angry, be sad, but heal. This country needs you whole."

He left then, and she broke down completely.


	89. Conditional Refusal

When Delia came back in, Kalysta had pulled herself together.

"Are you well, Milady?"

"I will be," Kalysta breathed. "The funeral is today. My presence will be required, I'm sure. Do I have any black dresses appropriate for a mourning widow?"

"I can arrange something from your mother's wardrobe if necessary."

"See that it's done. And thank you."

"Do you need anything else, Milady?"

"Not yet, but thank you."

Delia left again, presumably to figure out Kalysta's wardrobe options for the funeral.

Kalysta simply sat next to Zayn, holding his hand and wondering just how likely he was to wake up. She spoke to him some, spouting mostly nonsense about how the days were getting warmer and summer would soon be upon them. Any topic of more heavy consequence would have to wait until her heart wasn't quite so raw.

All too soon, Delia came to fetch her and take her to try out the dress options. Kalysta tolerated it, eventually settling for one and donning it for the occasion. There were so many confusing things to ruminate on. She really was mourning. She had ended a life, a young life. Did people feel this way following a battle? Taking a life was a serious thing, no matter one's religion or lack thereof. It weighed on her heavily. Thomas had charged her to grieve and heal, but she wasn't sure how to do either. She couldn't entirely grieve for a man that had done such things to her, but at the same time she wasn't happy considering what had occurred. He had truly seemed apologetic, and more than that, she knew how he'd been raised. Was it his fault that he'd turned into a monster when he'd been raised by one? And more than grieving, how was she supposed to heal? The thoughts were enough to drive her mad.

She was joined by her father and mother for the funeral. They walked on either side of her, each in dark blue garb to mark the affair. The ceremony was to take place just outside of the city, and the funeral procession was a long one. No one had really gotten much of a chance to know this foreign prince, so there was no reason that so many should attend, but it was an open occasion, and an opportunity to see a royal affair take place. The commoners didn't get much of a chance to see their rulers personally and the nobles were there out of duty.

She led the funeral procession, stepping behind the priest, and she was closest to rock structure as they carried his silk-wrapped body into the mausoleum. Commoners were buried in the ground. Royalty was placed in the family crypt. Kalysta shuddered at the thought of being laid in death next to the man whom she'd killed and who had abused her so heavily. The tears on her face were real, but indistinguishable behind the translucent cloth that trailed down from her hair and covered her face. Words were spoken by the priest as the body was carried in, but she couldn't perceive them.

Her father offered his arm and squeezed her hand in comfort as they walked back to the castle. She was mostly numb, but appreciated his most recent attempts to help her. The gods knew how ill-prepared she was to face judgment for her actions.

She spent the rest of the day sitting next to Zayn. She was required to wear mourning clothes of black for six months after the death of her spouse, so she simply stayed in the dress Delia had procured for her. It was just a bit loose-fitting, but it was comfortable.

When night fell, she allowed herself a break to sleep in her old room. For once, the nightmares didn't tear through her mind. Perhaps they'd been laid to rest with Niall.

\--- --- --- --- --- --- --- ---

The next morning, Kalysta woke up feeling reinvigorated. There was no discernible reason for it, for the sadness and guilt still pressed on her, but she would take it. Anything was better than the bitter despair to which she'd been prisoner the last few days. In fact, she felt well enough to sit in on the planning for the war and she did so.

Council sessions were almost an all-day thing now. There was much preparation needed for a war, even if nothing was decided for sure. Kalysta wanted to be a part of it, needed to be a part of it. She cared about her people.

Her entrance into the council chambers caused humorous reactions from everyone. The council members were surprised, Louis was clearly happy, her father displayed avid concern, and Thomas was deeply satisfied.

"Kalysta!" her father greeted, the first to speak up. "Are you well?" His look of concern spoke volumes.

"Yes, Pa-pa, thank you," she answered. "I thought it best if I were present at these meetings as we prepare for war."

"I couldn't agree more," Louis chimed in.

"Would you be so kind as to catch me up on what has been decided so far?"

"Of course." Louis took a breath. "With Ambassador Zayn's situation so... precarious, it was decided that someone else should be elected Commander of the forces should this come to war, someone who knows the other nations. Those present have elected me." At this, Louis gave a grimace. "Cheshire is the only country not represented at the moment. Their ambassador is on his way here and unless he gives objection, that is where we stand.

"At the moment, we are deciding how best to put forth a Declaration of War and present it to Murdoch. It's customary to make a formal declaration and have the opposing parties attendant."

"Is that really necessary?" Kalysta asked. "Once he finds out his son is dead, I doubt he'll wait around. He has a standing army. All it will take is moving it where he wants to strike first."

"Yes, but a formal meeting will allow us to display the gravity of the situation to him," her father pointed out, "to let him know that the rest of the nations stand against him."

She knew what they were reaching for, but it was a ridiculous dream. "Are you hoping to stay his hand? He is entirely mad. Reasoning with him is like hitting one's head against the wall: you get nothing but a headache."

"Would you start a war without stating our terms then?" Louis asked incredulously. "Such a thing has never been done."

"Come off it!" Kalysta snapped. "That's how we got here in the first place, by treating this like any other ruler, any other danger. You're acting as if he is some predictable king who cares for his country's well-being. He doesn't! He cares only for his own increasing power and wealth. I may be the youngest here, but it is the rest of you who are behaving naively."

Thomas burst into laughter at this. "It's just like you to go to insult in order to galvanize us into action," he snorted. "However, I offer a safe solution. We send him a Declaration of War, signed by the rulers and representatives here, but we don't meet with him. Copies can be sent to all the rulers so they are aware of exactly what transpires. We let him know that he is alone, but we do not waste time or endanger ourselves."

"I suppose that would make the most sense if we all agree that a formal meeting is implausible," her father said, running a thumb along his beard thoughtfully. "Let's get this draft together quickly so we can figure out how exactly to stage this war."

Louis looked resigned. "Very well, if you all insist on this, we can draft the declaration here and then send it out once the representatives from Cheshire and Bradford arrive. Let's hope that's soon.

"What's the next order of business?" he asked.

"If Bradford has been included in the Declaration then they'll need protecting," Thomas ventured. "That's a basic war tactic: eliminate the most vulnerable element or thoroughly cow it. Besides, there is Mullingan military occupying their major cities. It'd be too easy for Murdoch to make an example of them."

"What would you suggest we do?" Louis asked.

"Optimally, we'd have Harry send troops down from Cheshire to protect them." Kalysta didn't want to consider what Murdoch would do to the rebellious Bradians. "He's closest."

"Yes, that makes sense." Louis nodded in agreement, but his brow was furrowed. "But we also need to consider our battle fronts."

"That should be discussed, yes. Do we have maps?" Thomas's question was specifically for her father, but he didn't look at him, seeming to address the room at large.

"I'll have them fetched," her father replied. He stood and went to the door, talking to someone outside.

"Obviously, we'll center the troops in areas bordering Mullingar," came Louis' input.

Kalysta hadn't been around Murdoch for long, but she surmised that he would launch his forces in revenge against Elysium first. "I would guess that the Elysium-Mullingar border would be his primary focus," she supplied. "He knows we don't have the military or fortifications to repel him for long."

"That's where I'll come in," Thomas offered. "No matter my feelings toward you all, if Elysium falls then I can assume Velia will be next. I'll make sure our main battle front is well-protected."

"And what exactly are your feelings toward us?" Her father's address was low and angry as he returned to his seat at the table.

"Well, it's-"

"Oh, shut it!" Kalysta snapped, cutting off Thomas's reply. "We can stage a pissing contest when we're not facing war!"

Her father crossed his arms and showed his suspicion clearly on his face.

Thomas wasn't going to hide his sneer either.

"I mean it," Kalysta hissed. "You can both leave if you can't stay civil. Louis and I will arrange this ourselves."

"That won't be necessary." Thomas sat up and leaned his elbows on the table. "I can play nice if King Traitor wants to do the same."

"King Traitor?!" her father shouted.

"Enough!" Kalysta was done with their bickering. "Why am I the only bloody representative here trying to make this work? It's shameful! No wonder Murdoch is making his move on Dalitrise! Pickings are easy when you all act like squabbling children in a nursery! I don't sodding care what has happened! Think of the future and forget yourselves for one hour, or by the gods, you all can sort your messes out yourselves! I'll leave you to solve your differences with swords!

"I didn't marry that demon-spawn so that you all could sit here and quibble the minute we get a bleeding resistance organized! I don't want to hear another word unless it directly involves the war or is productive in some other sense." She put her fingers to her temples, trying to get control of the headache that was forming.

A knock at the door interrupted her thought before anyone else could speak up.

"Enter!" her father called.

A guard stepped in. "There's a physician here with a message for the Princess," he said.

"We don't have time for that," her father scoffed. "Send him-"

"No, let him in!" Kalysta ordered.

The physician entered. "Princess, you wanted to know if there was any change in the Ambassador's condition?"

"Yes," Kalysta breathed, her heart dropping.

"Yes, well, um, I don't know how to explain it. He-he's awake, a little incoherent, but responsive."

Kalysta stood and rushed from the room, completely indifferent to the council.

\--- --- --- --- --- --- --- ---

When she reached the infirmary she saw the difference immediately. Zayn moved in his bed, ever so slightly, and several physician apprentices were around him. The head physician was only a step behind her in arriving.

She stepped to his bed and grabbed his hand.

"Zayn, Zayn," she whispered.

His eyes fluttered and his legs shuffled a bit. It took several moments, but his eyes opened fully and he stared up at her. His lips moved, as if he were trying to speak, but no sound came out.

"What's wrong?" she demanded of the head physician.

"Princess, he was hanged," he whispered. "His voice underwent a bit of trauma."

Kalysta returned her gaze to Zayn's. "How are you?" she pressed, knowing he couldn't answer, but needing to ask anyway.

He squeezed her hand weakly.

"I worried you wouldn't wake up," she whispered, leaning closer and bringing her other hand up to brush his hair back. She wanted to say a lot more about her feelings for him, but wasn't comfortable doing so with this many people around. "Now I know how you felt after that storm."

"Princess, we need to examine him further," the physician pointed out.

She nodded and stepped back, but didn't leave the room.

"Hello, Ambassador," the physician said. "My name is Adam. I am the physician in charge of taking care of you. Can you speak at all?"

Zayn shook his head.

"I'm going to ask you some questions and then have you do a series of movements to determine how much you've been affected," Adam the physician continued. "Don't worry if you can't do most of the movements. I'm not expecting much at this point. I just need a base for where to go in helping you recover. We'll repeat them at different times to test how you improve as time goes on."

Zayn just nodded and closed his eyes again.

"Ambassador Zayn, please don't close your eyes." The physician patted Zayn's shoulder. "I need you to stay awake for just a bit longer."

Zayn obliged, opening his eyes but blinking a lot.

"Do you know where you are?"

A nod.

"Do you know why you're here?"

Zayn shook his head this time and Kalysta gasped. How much of his memory was affected? The thought was a terrible one.

"Well, Ambassador, you were convicted of treason by your brother and sentenced to hang," Adam the physician continued. "However, there was a... regime change and you were rescued before it was too late. Do you remember any of that?"

Another shake of the head.

"Do you know who the Princess is?" the physician asked quietly.

An emphatic nod this time. Zayn's eyes clenched shut in pain at the movement. When he opened them again, he looked over at Kalysta and made jerky hand motions for her to come closer.

She did, her chest tight at seeing him brought so low. He turned his palm upward and she placed her hand in his at the invitation. She put her other hand to his brow and felt the fever there. Somehow, his waking up didn't make her feel the best. He clearly still wasn't entirely safe.

The physician had Zayn do a number of different movements of his different limbs, shift his face in various manners, and answer a lot of other questions. A few of these questions made her heart almost stop.

"Were you aware at any point during the past week as you slept?"

A nod.

"Were you aware the entire time?"

He shook his head.

"Just during random moments?"

A nod.

"D-did you hear my conversation with King Thomas?" Kalysta breathed, interrupting the physician's line of questioning.

Zayn looked at her again and his forehead creased. He nodded.

Kalysta released his hand and moved away before anyone could see the tears springing in her eyes. He knew then. He knew what she'd done. She clutched a hand over her mouth to hold in a sob. Would he hate her? She wouldn't blame him if he did. She'd killed his brother after all. It was too much all at once.

She left the room without a backward glance.

\--- --- --- --- --- --- --- --- ---

She didn't return to the council chambers. Her mind was too heavy with other thoughts to try fielding the rulers' petulance and stupidity. There would be more decided later.

A wave of exhaustion hit her. The idea of sleep was glorious. Since her rest over the past week had been so interrupted and fitful, she decided to give herself a break. For once, reality was scarier than her subconscious anyway. A stiff drink and sleep. That was what she needed.

She reached her rooms and Delia was there.

"Milady! I received word that your Ambassador woke! That's incredible news!"

Kalysta brushed a stray hair out of her face. "I don't wish to discuss that at the moment."

"What do you mean?" Delia asked, frowning. "I figured you'd be happy to know it."

Kalysta chuckled darkly. "Things don't always go the way we plan."

"Are you well, Milady?" Delia's voice was full of concern now. "What's happened?"

Kalysta was tired of thinking. "Nothing's happened. I'm simply tired and I have the intense urge to drink myself into a stupor," she admitted. "Would you be so kind as to fetch me some spirits from my father's store?"

Delia looked at her uneasily. "How angry would you be if I refused? Conditionally refused?"

"And why would you conditionally refuse?"

"I... ask that you wait a week before drinking any alcohol," Delia answered quietly. "A week is all."

"Now you're talking in circles. Be out with it."

"I ask that you wait a week and... and see a physician before you imbibe."

It slowly dawned on Kalysta what Delia was suggesting. "That's simply preposterous," she scoffed. "I highly doubt that I have any reason to worry about that."

"I believe there's something that should have arrived for you by now that hasn't," Delia ventured.

"That's no reason to worry." Kalysta almost wanted to laugh at the idea. "I've never been on a timely schedule. My body always keeps me guessing."

"Would you do this for me, please?" Delia was urgent now.

"There's no reason!" Kalysta snapped. "What you're suggesting is entirely absurd. And even if what you suppose is true, I will do what I wish with my body!"

"Oh, Milady, don't say it like that!" Delia was close to tears, something Kalysta had a hard time comprehending. "I want you to be sure! I don't want you to make a decision without knowing all the facts and without being sure of all the consequences! Wait a week. That's all. Let us find out for sure, and then you can determine what you want having been informed of everything. A-and if you decide for sure, then I know someone who can help you. But don't jump into something too quickly!"

"Delia..." Kalysta sighed. "I-I don't want to even consider this. There's no way it could be true, so please, just stop."

"Will you please do this for me? I beg of you."

"Fine!" Kalysta removed her shoes angrily and threw them. It was a childish tantrum, but she didn't care anymore. She climbed under the covers. "Would you make me some tea at least?"

"Of course, Milady, and thank you." Delia stepped softly out of the room.

Kalysta curled in on herself and wrapped her arms around her head, wishing she could shut out the thoughts that Delia's concern had brought about. Her attempt was pointless. The thoughts assailed her anyway, torturing her and making her chest heavy with despair again.

She'd almost destroyed her nation with her own selfishness. What would she do if she were directly responsible for another's life?


	90. Pain and Reciprocation

Thanks to the early hour she'd gone to bed, Kalysta woke late in the evening. She was glad to wake, though, for her mind had chosen to concoct a dream of the worst sort. It hadn't been visually reminiscent of her marriage, but it held the fear and anguish she'd felt during that time. She was drenched in sweat and needed to rid her mind of the sickening residue left by the dream, so she got up and found Delia in the next room.

The woman was still awake, sewing black clothing to supplement Kalysta's wardrobe during the time of mourning. "Milady, I had hoped you would sleep through the night," she sighed. "You're no doubt in need of rest a lot of rest."

"I'm still not sleeping very well," Kalysta admitted. "Would you be able to have a bath drawn for me? I'm feeling a bit foul."

Delia's face pinched with an expression of pity. "Of course I can, Milady." She stood and set aside the garment she'd been working on.

Kalysta went back to bed and curled up under the covers as she waited. There was something comforting about being able to hide beneath the blankets. It didn't shut out her thoughts entirely, but it certainly helped.

It wasn't long before Delia came to fetch her. "The water is ready," she prompted.

Kalysta stood, shedding her wrinkled dress on the way to the bathing room.

"Would you like help washing your hair?" Delia asked.

"Yes please."

The bath was steaming a bit, a perfect temperature. Kalysta submerged her body and soaked for a bit, letting the warmth calm her tense muscles. Her mind calmed as well and she thought steadily about the past few days. Delia ran a comb through her hair and that soothed her further.

"I'm sorry for being harsh with you earlier," Kalysta murmured.

"No need to apologize, Milady," Delia responded. "It's not an easy topic to discuss."

"What am I going to do?" Kalysta breathed, scared at the very thought.

"You'll do what's necessary, even if it's not easy," Delia said. "No choice is easy in a situation like this."

"I don't want a reminder of him, especially that kind of reminder."

"The child would be half you," Delia reminded her. "I doubt it will cause you too much heartache, particularly once you feel it within you. Your love for it will overwhelm any reminder of pain. That's the wonder of loving a child."

"How can you be sure?" Kalysta sniffled. "I don't need to remember. I need to forget."

Delia was silent for so long that Kalysta thought maybe the woman had no answer. "I was in your position once," she finally said. "I was carrying a child and I didn't know if I wanted it or not."

"I never knew," Kalysta whispered. "Were you hurt? Was the man brought to justice?"

"Oh, Milady, it was some time ago," Delia dismissed quickly. "Things were different then. I was young, perhaps fifteen years, and I had just come to the palace to be your mother's maid. He was a fellow servant that took me under his wing and helped me learn the ways of royals and the palace. Everything I know I owe to him. He never hurt me. Even if I didn't want it, he came to me one night. I didn't know how to say no so I didn't protest. He wasn't particularly kind, but neither was he harsh. Over the course of a couple of weeks I spent the nights with him. It probably would have continued if he hadn't passed away in his sleep unexpectedly. He wasn't healthy and he was older anyway. I was relieved, but that confused me because he'd been nice enough.

"A few more weeks passed and when I realized I was pregnant, I cursed my lot in life. I was terrified. I didn't know what to do, where to go, or who to turn to. Making a decision was so difficult. Nothing seemed right. Eventually, I didn't have a choice. My body started changing and I let myself consider having a baby. I fell in love with the idea. I was going to have the child, I wanted it, and I would deal with the consequences. Some servants had been turned out of the palace when family got in the way of their duties, but I didn't care. I wanted my baby. However, that wasn't to be." Her voice quivered and she went silent again. Kalysta didn't dare say a word; she knew Delia wasn't finished talking. "I found out later that having a child so young can have problems, but all I knew was that I had barely started showing and I started bleeding. I couldn't feel the baby moving. I didn't have any money, so I went to one of the back-alley physicians in the city. They weren't very helpful or considerate. I'm not sure saving the child was possible anyway. She was just born too early and so very small."

"She?" Kalysta's heart was breaking at this.

"She'd grown enough to determine her gender. I was supposed to have a little girl." Delia poured water down the back of Kalysta's head and scrubbed her hair, going quiet again. "But I lost her. That's why I say I would like for you to keep your child; that is, if you turn out to be pregnant. Some women in your situation can't bear the thought and that's up to them; that's up to you. You need to do what's right for you, but I wanted you to know my side of it, so you can make your choice knowing every option you have."

Kalysta couldn't speak, even if she'd have been able to find the right words to say. So much pain! Delia had been carrying this all along and she'd no idea.

"I'll tell you this," Delia continued softly, "it was the happiest day of my life when your mother put you in my care. It was like the gods were giving me another chance. Oh, I never pretended you were mine, but I like to think that I love you like I would have loved her."

Kalysta cried then. She couldn't help it. She cried for herself, for Delia, and for the small baby that hadn't gotten to live. For some reason the idea of that little life not having a chance reminded her of Niall and she cried harder, cried for the ending of him and the knowledge that perhaps he could have been a good man if he'd been raised elsewhere.

It was therapeutic, the release of all the emotion and tension she'd been holding. The last month had been a whirlwind of pain, desperation, and heartache. The next nine would be even more so if she chose one way, but with Delia's story she began to ponder the idea of there being joy with the pain. Those two went hand-in-hand in her life, pain and joy, never one without the other.

Delia stayed where she was, kneeling next to the tub, but she ran a comforting hand over Kalysta's shoulder. She was silent and calm, soothing in her presence. She viewed Kalysta as a daughter in some regards and Kalysta saw her as a mother in the same, a mother for which she was supremely grateful.

When the tears and sobs finally subsided, Kalysta took a deep cleansing breath.

"The physicians say that the Ambassador was asking for you today," Delia said next, changing the subject. "Are you going to visit him?"

"I suppose I'll have to," Kalysta sighed and then groaned. "What am I going to say to him?"

"Do you need to say anything to him about this right now?"

"I don't know, Delia. I'm just confused and tired most of the time."

"That comes with carrying a child, if you don't mind my saying," Delia pointed out.

Kalysta groaned. "It's not a good time to have a child, Delia. I don't know how to feel about this."

"Would it ever be a good time for you?"

"Not really, no."

She finished bathing and then returned to bed. All these issues and thoughts could wait until morning. Now, she just needed sleep.

\--- --- --- --- --- ---

Despite how much sleep she'd gotten the day before, Kalysta woke late in the morning, oversleeping more than she ever had previously. When Delia finally shook her awake the sun was well above the horizon. Kalysta swore and hurried to get ready. "Why didn't you wake me sooner?" she complained.

"You were getting some good rest!" Delia countered. "After the nights you've had, the gods strike me down if I interrupt your peaceful slumber."

"Have the men met in council yet today?"

"I assume yes," Delia replied, setting out clothing for her. "I've been fending off their messengers all morning."

"Delia!"

"I won't apologize."

"No, of course not," Kalysta scoffed. She hurriedly finished dressing, left the room, and headed to the council chambers. It was a miracle they'd been put off for so long without contacting her. That spoke of how formidable Delia could be when she wanted.

Her entrance into the room was met favorably again.

"Princess, we hadn't expected you back for a while," Louis greeted excitedly. "Are you feeling well? We heard word that you were sleeping and not to be disturbed for any reason."

Kalysta sighed. "I simply overslept," she responded, moving to a seat. "I apologize for not being here sooner."

"That's quite alright, Princess," Thomas chimed in, belying his usual snide input. "We're discussing the fronts once more, if you're willing to give your opinion on them."

Kalysta leaned forward to look at the maps they'd been pouring over. There were little pegs with the flags of each country, representing where the bulk of each country's forces were waiting. She immediately noticed the peg representing Mullingar still sitting by their Royal City. "Have we had word on the location of Mullingar's forces at all?"

"Not yet," her father replied. "All we know is that he has not moved anything toward the borders yet. It's dangerous for our spies in Murdoch's Royal City to be too communicative right now; I sent out orders that they stay silent unless the forces move directly. Murdoch is famously paranoid and I am loathe to lose any advantage we have."

Kalysta nodded and perused the map further. "What is he waiting on?" she pondered aloud. "Surely he's heard of the Prince's death by now." The black cloth of her mourning clothing felt itchy at the thought.

"Undoubtedly he has. Right now, though, we're on the edge of the knife. We dare not start a war, so we wait on his move. That gives him power and I believe her knows that." Louis pointed at the Royal City using a dowel rod so he wouldn't have to stand. "We can't predict exactly when and where he'll strike first, though your thoughts from earlier have been taken into account. Scouts are making their way to the borders now; they will sit as far into Mullingar as they can and send word if they see any movement toward Elysium or Wolvecaster."

"Have you sent out the messengers with the Declaration of War?" she asked, still not taking her eyes off the map.

"Just this morning, yes," Thomas replied. "As well, we've begun work deciding where to send refugees."

Kalysta pinched the bridge of her nose, frustrated she hadn't thought of that first. "It's an unfortunate product of war, but displacing people from their homes never sits well with me."

"They'll feel better about it if they have somewhere to go," her father commented.

"What of the people along the borders? Have they been warned and instructed to move?" She had an idea how that would go, but had to ask anyway. "Many won't want to do it, but it's best if they're gone before the fighting starts. Fewer people there means fewer civilian casualties and fewer prisoners for Murdoch, if leaving any survivors is to his taste."

"We started organizing crews to help the people move. Until refugee camps are built we will house them here and around the city. It's the least the Royal Family can do." Her father didn't look pleased at voicing this, but he would do what was necessary. The people of their Royal City Haven would most likely be angry at the sudden influx of homeless refugees, and they would make their protests known.

The talk went on for hours, only halted when midday meal was brought to them in the council chambers. Some of it was above Kalysta's knowledge and experience for war. Thomas and her father had done more to study war tactics than anyone else in the room and it was a sign of the pressure put on them all that the two politely exchanged idea and strategy without provoking any outbursts. Overall, it was a much more pleasant experience than the day before.

Kalysta gave her input where she felt necessary, but mostly stayed quiet and listened. Even if the help was late in arriving, she was glad to have Louis and Thomas with them.

The talk grew a bit overwhelming and she took her leave about the fifteenth hour. As much as she wanted to avoid it, she knew she needed to face Zayn. It would be painful. He knew what she'd done and she hadn't waited to see what his full reaction was to the news. She would see it now.

She stepped into the infirmary and saw that a curtained contraption had been raised to give him privacy. There weren't many people in the long room of beds. Adam was at the end of the room, sitting at a desk and leaning over his paperwork. He nodded to her when she entered, but didn't respond otherwise. She supposed the head physician who had saved a hanging victim was allowed a bit of insubordination when greeting a Royal.

She quietly pulled back the curtain and stepped into the enclosure it formed. The sight of him was both comforting and painful. The physicians had finally removed the bandages from his neck and the contusions there were worse even than the ones she'd imagined in her dreams. She could see where his thrashing and moving had caused abrasions across the skin, but the bruising underneath was worse. The skin was still swollen and raw-looking. She covered her mouth before she gasped. When had reality ever been worse than what her mind could concoct?

It took her a minute to adjust to the view of him, but eventually she was able to slip into the chair that was set next to his bed. The creaking of the chair made him stir. She held her breath, waiting to see if he would wake up.

He did. His eyes fluttered open and he looked around wildly, seeming disoriented.

She stood again and grasped his hand. "I'm here," she whispered. "Are you okay?"

He sighed, showing relief. It was a better response than she could have hoped for. He didn't appear angry. His other hand she wasn't holding reached up toward her face, but his movements were jerky and uncoordinated. It was the strangest thing, watching him have to concentrate and bring his body into subjection over such a simple task.

She leaned forward more and he placed his palm on her face finally, caressing her cheek. The hand trembled at the movement and he dropped it next to him again after just a moment. He was trying to comfort her and reassure her. This was further proven when he dragged their clasped hands up to kiss hers.

"I love you," she whispered, leaning down to kiss him gently. "Next time you feel like scaring me into an early grave, don't do it in such a dramatic way," she teased, mimicking Mahir's admonishment after she'd gone overboard on the Partheos.

His lips twitched like he wanted to smile and his eyes crinkled with humor, but he looked to be struggling to get his muscles to cooperate. He squeezed her hand and held it against his chest.

"Do you hurt?"

He shook his head.

"Are you lying to me?"

He lifted a shoulder noncommittally.

"I love you," she repeated, sitting on the edge of the bed and taking care not to jostle him. "I don't want you to be in pain." She ran a hand over his hair, combing it into a semblance of order again.

His face pinched a little.

"Do you need something?"

He sighed softly in response.

"Ambassador, how are you?" Adam opened the curtains and stepped to the bed. "Do you need the pan?"

Zayn's eyes closed as if pained, but he nodded.

"Princess, if you would kindly fetch one of the nurses?" Adam prompted.

"I can help," she insisted.

"Princess, I must assert myself to defend my patient. You are not needed."

Kalysta ran a knuckle against Zayn's beard slowly. "It's time I returned the favor for all you did for me," she said softly. "Would you let me?"

Zayn blinked, but nodded once more.

Adam the physician sighed. "If he's amenable then I suppose it's alright. Here's what we're going to do, Princess: I'm going to roll him toward me and I need you to place the pan beneath his buttocks. He can't support himself very well. You saw how his hands move. Once you've placed the pan we'll roll him onto his back again so he can relieve himself in the pan. Can you manage that?"

"I believe so," Kalysta remarked wryly.

He handed her the pan and she tried not to think of what had been in the pan already as she took it.

It went just as he said. Adam did most of the work, but Kalysta did her best to settle the pan underneath Zayn in a position that wouldn't be too uncomfortable. They put him on his back, but he simply lay there at first.

"Now is not the time to be shy," Adam said. "Does the Princess need to leave?"

Zayn puffed air out through his nostrils in exasperation.

"Come now," Kalysta cajoled. "I've embarrassed myself much more thoroughly than this. Or have you forgotten the bucket already?" She patted his cheek. "You're not lessened in my sight any more than I was in yours."

Zayn gave another pinched expression, but complied.

Kalysta knew how undignified it felt to rely solely on others for care in such situations and how embarrassing it was, even if those people were trained professionals or loved ones. She couldn't fault him for feeling trepidation, but she was glad when he allowed her to stay. She really did want to pay him in kind for all the care he'd shown her aboard the _Partheos_.

When he was finished they removed the pan through the same kind of procedure and Zayn looked a lot happier with the situation.

"Your opiate has most likely worn off, Ambassador," Adam said next. "Do you need more?"

Zayn shook his head, but Kalysta knew he was still in pain.

"Why don't you take some?" Kalysta prodded. "It can't be too bad."

He shook his head, more emphatically, and his breathing grew heavier with distress.

"That's alright, Ambassador," Adam said, trying to calm him. "I won't force it on you, but remember you can have some if you need it." He stepped out after that and closed the curtain behind him.

"You stubborn man," Kalysta sighed, sitting on the edge of the bed again.

He simply looked at her and grasped her hand again.

"You know that I love you, right?" she asked.

He nodded and squeezed her hand, seeming to return the sentiment.

"You heard what Thomas and I spoke of," she put forth quietly.

He nodded and his forehead wrinkled slightly in distress.

"I'm sorry," she whispered. "It's not how I would have wanted you to find out." She bit her lip and looked down, unable to meet his gaze. "I reacted instinctively and after everything he..." Her voice died out. She couldn't finish the sentence. "I'm sorry," she repeated.

His grip on her hand tightened and he pulled it up to press his lips to her knuckles.

She couldn't figure out what he wanted to say, but he wasn't showing anger. If anything, he looked sad. A tear slipped from his eye and she wiped it away quickly. "Don't. I'm sorry," she whispered again, distressed at his grief.

He shook his head and beckoned with his hand for her to lean in. She did so, getting closer to him.

Barely, just barely, she heard the air leave his lungs in the semblance of words. "I love you," was what it sounded like.

"You love me?" she asked, putting her palms on either side of his face and keeping close to him.

He nodded.

She kissed him gently. "Thank you." It wasn't much, as far as clemency was concerned, but then he was limited in how much he could say. The fact that he had managed to convey anything vocally at all was a marvel.

She ran her fingers through his hair, gently brushing her fingernails against his scalp. It seemed to soothe him, for his eyes closed and his breathing slowed as he fell asleep again. He needed the rest for sure.

She sat with him for some time, wondering when she would work up the nerve to tell him her predicament, if she ever could.


	91. Rumor Has It

Kalysta alternated between holding Zayn's hand and sitting back to ponder her predicament. He slept peacefully and she found comfort in that, hoping that perhaps it was her presence that aided in his slumber. She wanted that for herself, the warmth of his presence to calm her as she slept. That was impossible, though. He was watched intently and she doubted anyone would take kindly to her finding a lover so quickly after her husband's death. She wanted it anyway. If anyone could keep away the horrors that crept upon her dreams, it was he.

"I thought I would find you here," Louis voiced as he pulled the curtain aside and stood at the other side of the bed. "Have you talked with him?"

"A bit," Kalysta responded carefully.

"How does he seem?"

"Pained, embarrassed, frustrated, unsteady."

"Is that all?" He sighed and crossed his arms. "There is some god watching out for him. No man should have been able to survive that."

"He's not entirely safe quite yet," she advised. "I meant it when I said he's unsteady. There's something wrong with his hands and his face. It's like his body won't cooperate with what he wants."

"That was quite an ordeal, Princess, you have to admit. He may never fully recover."

"Thank you for reminding me," she scoffed. "I've already tortured myself enough with that thought."

"No one is entirely sure what prompted Niall's anger and sentencing," Louis said next, veering the direction of their conversation. "Zayn would never be careless enough to be overheard discussing resistance plans, so I'm guessing you two were more indiscreet than you assured me you would be?"

"I suppose you'll want to say 'I-told-you-so'? If you do, you can stuff it right down your throat and sod off, because anything you say is nothing to how I am berating myself. I don't need your help to feel poorly for what has happened." She stared intently at Zayn's sleeping form, refusing to meet Louis' gaze.

"Of course not," Louis countered. "His sentence was the final push we needed, the impetus if you will, to get the other nations involved."

"I'm so glad you can look at it so positively," she said, a snide tone creeping into her voice.

"I have to see the positive, Princess," he countered. "I sense your anger, but I must confess that I don't understand the grounds for it."

"Your timing was stunningly perfect," she pointed out, allowing a niggling doubt to creep up. "Much longer and he would have been dead. Why couldn't you have come any sooner?"

"Would you rather I hadn't been out getting help?" he asked quietly. "I was rallying the kings, so I'm sorry that while busting my ass to rescue you from your stupidity I wasn't able to reach Elysium before your consequences caught up with my best friend."

His vehement response quelled her doubts before they could fully surface and she sighed, properly chastised. She didn't know what was going on with her, this readiness to lash out at anyone and everyone. "I'm sorry," she whispered sincerely. "I'm sorry to seem ungrateful. My head is a mess. I apologize."

Louis took a deep breath. "You aren't the only one trying to make sense of all of this. Things certainly haven't turned out the way I planned."

"You didn't want to be appointed Commander, did you?"

"Not in the slightest," he confessed. "I'll do it, for there aren't many other people that know the nations and rulers as I do, but I would much rather like it if Zayn were the one. He has the head for leading, not me."

"You're from Royalty," Kalysta teased, "surely you picked up something."

Louis laughed mirthlessly. "If only my father could see me.

"Do you think your father would be willing to keep Zayn here until he recovers?"

Kalysta laughed at this. "My father may protest at first, but there's no way I'll let anyone move Zayn until he is completely recovered. They'll answer to me."

Louis laughed as well. "Yes, I'm sure no one would dare go against you in this matter."

Kalysta still held Zayn's hand and Louis grabbed another chair to sit across from her. They settled into a comfortable silence. They both cared about the man lying in the bed, but after different fashions. She only wondered whether or not Louis' concern would morph now that he was in charge of the forces.

\--- --- --- --- ---

There wasn't much time for such long visits with Zayn over the next week. Kalysta was overcome with everything that needed doing, and working on solutions to population and protection issues helped her distract her mind from what she didn't want to think about.

She wished it were in her power to set aside matters of state and see to aiding Zayn in his recovery. As it was, she had to settle for taking breakfast with him most mornings. Before her eyes she got to see as his meals become progressively better as he regained the ability to chew thoroughly and swallow solid foods. This gave her hope, even though there were still many tasks he had yet to achieve.

Zayn wasn't sitting lax, though. Some days she was able to assist the physicians as they put him through exercises to strengthen and wrestle back control of his muscles. His voice returned slowly in that week and the rest of his progress came in bursts of success. Each day was better and Kalysta's hope returned. One capacity that eluded him was control over the muscles of his face. He could maintain small expressions, but not for long. Though he couldn't display his frustration at this, Kalysta sensed it anyway. And she would be lying if she said she didn't miss his cheeky grins and exasperated looks. There were so many little things that had been robbed from him and she mourned them as she mourned her own situation.

As word of a coming war went to the villages bordering Mullingar, people began pouring into the Royal City of Haven, more every day. Some of those coming had already left their homes some time ago because of the unrest and danger of living too far from a city. Since the Royal City was promising shelter and more protection, they flocked to Haven. Those that arrived sooner had less to carry and were poorer. Many of them pitched tents on the outskirts of the farms around the city. It was tough to govern all the new people arriving, but with her father's help she was able to establish areas for each of the new groups and keep relative peace with the original inhabitants.

Another problem was securing the border as the people abandoned their homes. True to his word, Thomas had set his generals to training her soldiers and as many able-bodied men as they could find. However, they needed protection at the borders immediately and her men weren't going to be trained in time. Kalysta was left to rely on the Velian army to protect most of the Elysian border. It left a bad taste in her mouth. She was at the mercy of Thomas and, though they had an alliance, she couldn't help feeling that he could turn at any moment of his choosing and Elysium would be lost. There was no alternative, though. Men were dispatched to the border to start building forts and defenses. She was stuck organizing the new arrivals in their temporary homes and forming a ration system to ensure that everyone was provided for and that there would be enough food to last a prolonged war.

Two momentous things happened in one day at the end of that week. The first was during her visit from the physician. Kalysta had agreed to the visit and it took the place of her breakfast with Zayn. The physician was a broadly touted midwife and Delia had insisted on the best when it came to Kalysta's health. Delia brought the woman to Kalysta's rooms for privacy.

After the midwife had pressed her fingers gently into Kalysta's abdomen and asked a number of questions, she said, "Based on what we've established, I would guess that you are with child."

"Seriously? There's no definitive way to tell?" Kalysta protested. "What good are you? Delia 'guessed' as much a week ago!"

"No, Your Highness, there is no definitive way," the woman replied. "Based on your testimony and symptoms I can conclude with as much certainty as possible that you carry a child."

"My not having a cycle at the moment can't determine that! I've been late before and I'll be late other times too!"

"With all due respect, that's not the only thing," the woman pointed out. "Delia informed me of several things as we walked here."

"Snitch," Kalysta said in aside to Delia.

Delia shrugged, unconcerned.

"In addition to what she told me, I have made my own observations," the midwife continued as if she hadn't been interrupted. "I noticed you shifting your shoulders excessively and scratching at your chest. Am I correct in assuming that your breasts feel tight in their band?"

Kalysta huffed and repressed the urge to adjust her clothing. "I suppose I've felt a little... snug, but that doesn't mean anything for sure."

"Princess, it's not my place to contradict you, so I won't. Breast enlargement is a common early sign that women notice for carrying. All I can do is tell you what I've discerned and the likely reason for what I discern." She was clearly exasperated with Kalysta and barely holding that in.

Kalysta tried to regulate her breathing. Her reflex reaction was to continue fighting the conclusion, but she was tired, too tired. "What do I need to do, then?" she asked, sighing.

After a look of surprise at Kalysta's sudden acquiescence, the midwife said, "I'd like to start with saying that your stress needs to be kept to a minimum. It's easy to lose a child if it's the first you're carrying. I know you want to be involved with all the aspects of state, but it's not proper in your condition."

"I suppose you'd have me sit and embroider baby clothes as opposed to helping my father?"

"That's exactly what I would recommend."

"Of course." Kalysta crossed her arms and paced around her sitting room. "Is there any way I could persuade you to keep this all quiet for a couple more weeks?"

"Your Highness, the time for keeping this a secret has passed. My reputation precedes me. I was asked to visit you and many people saw Delia leading me to your rooms. This secret is lost if it ever was one."

"Of course," Kalysta repeated, somber at the thought. "Is there anything else, physician?"

"I usually have my patients call me Mama Gia. If you don't find it too informal, I would prefer that."

"I can agree," Kalysta replied. "Do you have any instructions for me at this point?" She had to focus on the clinical because her emotions were an overwhelming turmoil.

"As I said, keep your stress to a minimum. Eat better than you are right now." She was listing things off quickly, as if she had been preparing this speech. "No more staying up nights. You're to be in bed by the twenty-first hour or before; even if you're not sleeping, you will be resting. That will be best. I'll be back next to week to check on your health and the baby's. I don't want to see bags under your eyes then like there are right now."

Kalysta wanted to protest this, but didn't have the energy. She also had to consider the fact that she was caring for more than herself now. The entire situation reeked of undesired responsibility, but she had made up her mind. She would prove that a descendant of Murdoch could grow up well if given the chance. This baby would have the chance that its father had not been given.

Mama Gia left and Kalysta followed soon after to start working on more problems that had arrived with the refugees.

Sure enough, just as Mama Gia had suspected, news of Kalysta's predicament spread quickly. No one said anything to her face, but she could see it as she moved down the hallways about her business. She received looks of pity, concern, speculation, surprise, and judgment. Such was the way of nobles and serving folk alike. The sidelong glances and whispers were enough.

Kalysta knew it wasn't fair to let her parents receive the news secondhand, so she organized a time to eat lunch with them in the privacy of a small dining room. She hoped that their full bellies would lessen the upset she was going to give them.

She greeted them as they entered the room, returning their kisses to her cheeks. At first, she let them settle in and eat some before she introduced the topic. No matter what, she wasn't looking forward to it.

"Father, mother," she began, wiping her mouth gingerly and setting her napkin aside, "I asked you here today to mention something that may be made known to you later. I wanted to be the one to tell you." She had waited until the servants had left to bring their dessert so they would have privacy, but she was still finding it difficult to voice. "I was paid a visit by Mama Gia, the midwife, this morning." She looked between her parents, waiting for their reaction.

Her father's eyes narrowed and he leaned back in his chair, though he stayed silent. Fayette, her mother, gave a more vocal response, gasping and covering her mouth immediately afterward. "And?" her mother asked, urging her to continue.

"She believes me to be with child."

Her mother's face pinched as if pained, but her father simply stared, his face impassive. The former was to be expected, but Kalysta couldn't figure out the reason for her father's reaction.

"Whose is it?" he asked abruptly, leaning forward to rest his palms on the table to either side of his plate.

"How can you ask that, Jonathan?" her mother gasped.

"I need to know if the father of your child lies in our mausoleum or a sick bed currently," he continued, seeming to ignore her mother's question.

Kalysta felt cold at the callousness of his inquiry. "I'm sure I don't know what you mean."

"How dim-witted do you think I am?" he snapped.

"I'm not sure, actually. You are the man who abandoned a friend, conceded to a mad king's promise, and then pretended not to know why the other rulers hate him." The castigation in his tone made her angrier than she could describe.

"Kalysta!" Her mother was horrified at the turn of conversation, but she would be more horrified before it was over.

"That is not the subject under discussion right now!" he roared, slamming his fist on the table for emphasis and making the utensils rattle. "Either the dead Prince is the father or I need to go make good on the Ambassador's execution."

"If you'll recall, I slit the throat of the last man who tried that," Kalysta replied, her voice frigid but quiet.

Her mother made a whimpering noise.

"You're upsetting your mother," he hissed.

"If you were close enough to see what happened to the Prince, then she was as well," Kalysta said angrily. "Mother, if you'd like to leave while I talk with the King, feel free."

"I will not," her mother responded loudly, but unsteadily. "Jonathan, stop this. She's with child. You can't be upsetting her!"

"Who is the father? I won't ask you again."

"Honestly, I can't tell if you're angry at me for standing up for myself, at the Ambassador for taking my maidenhead, or at yourself for creating a situation in which your daughter was forced to carry the child of a man who beat and raped her in their marriage bed," Kalysta responded, unloading too much information all at once. She was hoping to stop his talking and she was successful.

His face drained of color and he appeared ready to throw up the food he'd just eaten.

"Whatever the reason, I'm not going to explain myself to you when you've neither regained my trust, nor shown compassion in this situation." She stood. "I'm sorry for ruining midday meal, mother. I'll join you and the noblewomen in the sitting room this evening, I think."

"We'd welcome your presence," her mother said quietly.

Kalysta stopped next to Jonathan before she left the room. "And don't ever threaten Zayn again. He's done more to help this country than you'll ever know and he's sacrificed much to fix your errors. You owe him your thanks. And know this, that if some ill fate befalls him I will hold you entirely responsible. There's no action so low I won't stoop to in order to protect him. Remember that, King Jonathan."

She left them there and decided to visit the reason for Jonathan's consternation. Perhaps Zayn's warm presence would warm her icy anger. Though, she wondered if he'd heard the news yet. She wanted to be the one to tell him, but for some reason the idea of it still terrified her.

Luckily, she was saved the difficult task at the moment, because a messenger came to fetch her. He led her to the council chambers for an emergency meeting.

The second momentous occurrence of the day was the announcement that Mullingan troops were moving from the capitol toward Elysium.


	92. Fits and Smiles

"Louis, what's the news?" Kalysta asked, stepping into the council chambers.

"Well, Murdoch certainly isn't hiding," Thomas called from where he was leaning over maps. "Our spies sent word that a force of Mullingan troops left the capitol two days ago. Good news for us, they can't travel at nearly the rate our messengers can. Based on the terrain and season, I'd give us two weeks, assuming they march all day and take short breaks at night. They'll probably take longer, but I want to be safe."

"I asked Louis, not you," Kalysta pointed out.

"He's right," Louis chimed in. When she glanced at him he gave her a searching look that told her he knew her open secret and was debating whether or not to mention it.

She shook her head at him and he nodded before looking back at the maps.

"I don't believe a war council is the place for you, Princess, since you're not supposed to be under stress," her father voiced, crossing his arms and failing in his attempt not to look petulant. "Stress is dangerous for an expecting woman."

He'd done it. He'd really done it.

Louis looked weary, Thomas was purposefully not looking at her, and the rest of the room was staring at her avidly.

"I believe it's up to me to decide what causes me stress, not you, King Jonathan," she responded coolly.

"Princess, as much as I agree with you, none of us wants to put your child at risk," Louis sighed. "I can't, and won't, tell you what to do, but it is my humble request that you make yourself scarce. I'll be sure to send you regular reports on what is going on and welcome any notes of input that you send in return."

Kalysta fought hard to keep the sneer off her face, but she allowed herself the disparaging, "You spiteful child," as she passed her father on the way out the door. He would get his way, but that didn't mean she was totally powerless.

She'd have more time to sit with Zayn now, if she could bring herself to keep something from him. Oh, it was only a matter of time before he got the news, a short matter of time, but she had no idea how to broach the subject.

"Princess?" a girl called out, approaching her. Kalysta recognized her as one of the younger nurses who worked in the infirmary. "I was told to come fetch you. They're going to be moving the Ambassador."

"What?" Kalysta snapped. "Under whose authority?"

"Just follow me," the girl said. "Everything will be explained there."

Kalysta did, hurrying the pace as much as she could. If her father tried anything...

As it turned out, her fears were ungrounded. The real reason to move him was overpopulation of the infirmary. When they arrived, the long room of beds was fully occupied with people, insomuch that her entrance was barely noticed.

She rushed over to Zayn's bed, dodging children, and stepped inside the curtains.

"It's insane out there," she breathed.

"I can hear that, actually," Zayn commented, his hoarse voice holding a teasing note.

The physician, Adam, came in. "You got my message, then?" he puffed, looking a bit overwhelmed.

"Obviously. What is going on in here?"

"There's been an outbreak of dysentery among one of the groups of refugees," Adam answered. "The children and elderly are being hit the worst, but I haven't seen a case this bad in quite some time. I can't turn them away, I need the Ambassador's bed, and frankly he's recovered enough to have his own room and check-ins."

"Are you sure?" Kalysta countered. "I won't have you taking chances with his health."

"I'm sitting right here, K-Princess." Zayn's voice was slightly irritated. "You can talk to me. And if you were to ask me I'd say I'm feeling much better and that I would like to leave to make room for someone who needs immediate care more than I." He coughed, in opposition to his statement.

"Are you sure?" Kalysta directed the question to him now.

"I'd get better sleep in my own room," he added. "This place is a bit boisterous." His expression was an earnest plea to which she couldn't say no.

"I suppose it'd be alright," she relented.

Adam snorted. "I'm so glad you agree with my decision."

"Enough talk," she retorted. "What will this take? What's the best way to move him?"

"I would suggest a covered litter."

"Covered?"

"Have you any idea the sentiment toward the Ambassador at this moment?" he asked.

"No," she answered quickly. "Have you?"

"No, but I would guess that while his position, loyalties, and role in the future remain uncertain that we shouldn't broadcast how weak he is," Adam pointed out.

"I would like to protest the use of the word weak," Zayn chimed in.

"You can't walk," Adam reminded him.

"It's fine," Kalysta assured Zayn, running a hand over his soothingly. "You'll take your proper time to heal, however long that may be."

"Then a covered litter for him?"

"I don't think we have something of that manner," she confessed. "We'd have to fashion one."

"Didn't Royals generally get carried around in those at one point in time?"

"Not for several generations now. I've heard of them, seen them in paintings, but that's about it."

"Think there may be some stored somewhere?"

"It's doubtful." Kalysta crossed her arms. "What of the wheeled chairs? I've seen several of the older leaders of nobility going about in them when their joints don't let them walk much anymore. That would be a less dramatic and far faster way to move him."

"Do you know of one noble who would be willing to part with theirs for now?" Adam asked skeptically. "I treat some of them for their joint pains and they are not exactly understanding or accommodating."

"Maybe not if you asked," Kalysta agreed, "but they can't exactly deny their Princess Heir if she wants something."

"Whatever it takes."

"Is that really necessary?" Zayn rasped. "We haven't really tried me walking. Perhaps I can manage it with some help."

Kalysta opened her mouth, but the physician beat her to the rejection of that option.

"Absolutely not, Ambassador," he said. "A move is already going to cause you stress, pain, and extreme fatigue. We're not relying on your limbs without being sure of their status."

Zayn sighed and looked straight ahead, part of his jaw clenched in frustration.

"It's alright," Kalysta assured. "We'll get it figured out."

He nodded, but didn't respond, and his jaw stayed clenched.

It was an ordeal to procure one of the chairs, just as Adam had predicted and the movement itself was difficult. Several men were needed to transfer Zayn from the bed to the chair, despite how much weight he'd lost in the past weeks. It hurt him too, evidenced by the contortions of the moveable muscles in his face and the tension in his body once he was settled. He made no noise, though.

Kalysta walked by his side as a nurse pushed him out of the infirmary. She sent another nurse ahead to clear the hallways in their path. Adam was right that people didn't need to see him like this. Once Zayn had determined that there weren't too many watchful eyes, he consented to holding her hand. He even gave it a quick squeeze and then smiled once they reached the room. His pain was clear to see in his demeanor. It worsened as they lifted him from the chair.

She thought the worst was over, but as they set him on the bed he tensed, his eyes rolled back, and his limbs shook in spasmodic vibrations.

"Zayn!" she shrieked, rushing over to pat his face. "What's wrong?

"Adam!" she yelled next.

"Get back!" the physician called urgently.

She obeyed and watched as the man hovered over Zayn and pushed his eyelids back.

"Lift him and set him on the floor!" he ordered the men who had helped transfer Zayn from the chair.

"What?" Kalysta snapped. "Why would you do that?" She tried to intercede, but a nurse stopped her.

"Stay back!" Adam bellowed.

Kalysta stood against the wall and watched as they put Zayn's writhing body on the ground. It was an appalling sight.

"Turn him on his side!" Adam ordered next. "Turn him or we'll have real problems!"

Kalysta whimpered and covered her mouth, wishing she could keep in the horrified tears pouring from her eyes and desiring even more to help. All she could do was watch the scene.

Zayn's quivering continued for what seemed like ages, though it was actually only a few minutes. Some blood dribbled from his mouth, making her heart almost stop, but then she was distracted when a puddle of liquid formed around his body. Ordinarily she would have been disgusted at the thought of someone wetting themselves, but all she could muster was pity and panic. Something was terribly, terribly wrong.

Eventually his limbs stilled and his body relaxed. He slumped and Adam immediately set to work. Nurses fetched towels and cloths.

"What was that?" Kalysta called, not daring to approach. "He's bleeding still!"

"Calm yourself, Princess," he snapped. He opened Zayn's mouth and carefully looked in. "He bit the tip of his tongue is all," he answered then. "At least he didn't vomit."

The nurses mopped up the mess and fetched new clothes, but no one made any move to put Zayn back on the bed.

"Why is he still on the floor?" she pressed.

"Princess, if you disturb my process again I will have you escorted out," Adam warned. "Stay silent and I'll answer your questions later."

Once they'd changed his clothes and cleaned him some, the men put him back in the bed. Adam sat at the bedside and listened to Zayn's heart and breaths. At first he was rechecking constantly, but then he checked every few minutes, checking over the rest of Zayn's body. He pinched at the Zayn's fingers to check responsiveness and then went back to listening to his heart. Then he was looking at the responsiveness of his feet and toes. This went on for at least twenty minutes.

Finally, Adam sent the assistants and nurses away. He straightened the blankets and pillow around Zayn and then beckoned Kalysta forward. "Alright, what are your questions?"

"What just happened?" she breathed.

"It's a problem that I've seen most with apoplexy," he answered. "I suspected it might show up when he had problems controlling his muscles, but I had hope since it hadn't displayed before now. There seems to be a connection between muscular deficits and these fits. Has he ever had this problem before now?"

"I-I'm not sure," Kalysta stammered. "I can have someone fetched who would know better, though."

"It matters not," Adam sighed. "The problem exists now for sure."

"What can you do?"

"Nothing," he answered, stretching and standing.

Kalysta tried to even out her breathing following such a blunt and careless answer. "What do you mean, nothing?"

"Every case is different. He might never have another fit. He may have many. I do know that it's good he's here now. Stress seems to exacerbate it, so it's best that he's given plenty of rest and no trouble."

"Will... will he be alright?"

"I can't say." Adam sighed. "He'll need to be watched at all times, because if certain precautions aren't taken during a fit he could very well die."

She nodded, breathing deeply to stave off panic. She'd thought him past this point of danger. His progress had given her such hope.

"I have to go see to my other patients," he said next. "I'll send a nurse in to watch him. Send for me if he doesn't wake in the next ten minutes."

Kalysta nodded. "Could you have someone sent to find Commander Louis Tomlinson? Tell him it's an emergency."

"Very well."

He left and she labored to drag one of the plush sitting chairs from by the fireplace and over to the bedside. She wanted to be with him for a time and calm him when he woke up.

Louis burst into the room a few minutes later, followed by a nurse.

"What's wrong?" he breathed, rushing over to the bed and staring at Zayn intently.

"He had some sort of fit," Kalysta answered carefully. "He fainted or something and his muscles spasmed and he-he wet himself, and I-I couldn't do anything." She held in a sob.

Louis reached out and clutched her shoulder in comfort for a moment.

"Has he ever had one before?" she asked.

"Nothing like that, no," Louis breathed. His face pinched in worry. "What did the physician say?"

"Not much. It's related to his muscle problems. It may or may not happen again. There's no way to know."

"Bloody hell," Louis sighed, scrubbing a hand over his face.

"How goes the war council?" she asked carefully.

Louis looked over at the nurse. "Could you leave for a few minutes?" he asked her. Kalysta had forgotten she was in the room.

"The physician said to-" she started.

"Just a few minutes," Louis cut her off, speaking assuredly and giving her a soft smile. "I'd count it as a personal favor."

"I-I suppose so." The woman blinked at him for a second and then left.

"I wish you could be in that council if just to stop the squabbling," he sighed once the door had closed. "It seemed they only behaved if you were there. Your father is a stubborn ass who is quite knowledgeable and willing to berate others with that. Thomas enjoys nettling him for the fun of it, as you can imagine. My children act better, in my opinion."

It was Kalysta's turn to sigh. "My father is quite unhappy with me, so I imagine he's taking it out on you all."

"Any ideas how to help me?" Louis ventured.

"None of an interpersonal nature. However, the physician mentioned an outbreak of dysentery in the refugee camps. I'd suggest sending a few of the surveyors out to ensure that there are proper areas for the people to relieve themselves that is well away from the streams and wells for drinking. The last thing we need is for illness to spread to the troops before they even see battle."

"Yes, you're quite right."

"You'd better get back," she pushed. "If they're that bad with you, I imagine they'll be at each other's throats in your absence. I'll send word if anything happens."

Just as she said this, though, Zayn stirred, groaning and shuffling.

"Get the nurse!" Kalysta urged. "Zayn, love," she whispered, "are you alright? How do you feel?"

"What's happened?" he moaned.

"You-you had a fit."

"Ambassador," the nurse greeted, rushing into the room at Louis's prompting. "How are you? Do you remember what occurred?"

"I'm sore," Zayn answered. "My body hurts. I don't remember anything except leaving the infirmary."

"You're alright now," the nurse said, holding her hand to his chest and counting his breaths. "You had a fit as we moved you and you've only just now woken up from it. Do you have a history of muscle fits?"

"No, of course not," Zayn breathed.

"Well, just rest and let me know if you feel any different later," she said. She stepped back, but said, "It'd be best if he had privacy and quiet in which to sleep."

Louis nodded. "Hey, mate, you're in good care," he said, reaching in to grasping Zayn's forearm. "Get strong so I can kick your ass for giving us a fright."

Zayn tried to smile, but grimaced in pain instead. "I'll be alright, Tommo."

Louis scoffed.

"Zayn," Kalysta breathed.

"I'm in different clothes," Zayn said abruptly. "Why am I in different clothes?"

"You-well, you lost continence during the fit and-and your body relieved itself," Kalysta whispered. "You needed new clothes."

His chin quivered and he stared up at the ceiling. "I'd like to be by myself, now, please," he whispered. His voice shared his abject misery.

"But I-"

"Kalysta," Louis cut in. He gestured with his head toward the door.

She was frustrated. Why did he want her gone so much? "I'll be back," she promised, turning toward the door. The nurse joined her, leaving Louis in with his best friend.

"He'll be alright, Princess," the nurse said quietly. "He's in a bit of shock."

Kalysta just nodded. She couldn't bring herself to leave entirely, though, so she stood against the wall opposite the door and waited for Louis to exit. She wondered what he had to say to Zayn when Zayn wanted to be left alone. And why would Zayn allow him to stay and not her? It made her incredibly angry.

Louis left a few minutes later and motioned for Kalysta to walk with him.

"Why did he make me go?" she asked.

"Kalysta, have you no compassion?" Louis sighed.

"I beg your pardon?" She was of half a mind to show him just what she thought of that sentiment.

"Do you remember how helpless and ashamed you were when you recovered from your bout in the sea?"

"Of course."

"He's going through the same, but for a longer time. Can you imagine what it's like for a man, whose very worth is judged on what he can do for himself? Now, he not only relies on other people to help him relieve himself, but he can't control his own bodily functions. He's having a hard time and he feels like he's losing face, in front of you, in front of everyone. Do you blame him for wanting a moment to himself? He hasn't had that for several weeks now, between you and all the doctors."

"He said all this?" she asked petulantly.

"He didn't have to say it all; he shouldn't have to. Anyone with a pair of eyes and an understanding heart should see it."

Kalysta looked down, properly chastened. These things hadn't crossed her mind once and now that Louis had pointed them out she felt bad for that. He was going through more than she could understand and all she'd done was hover and fret over him. "I suppose I'll wait to go back for a while."

"Well, I'd certainly wait until you're ready to tell him about your condition," Louis pointed out.

"How can I?" she whispered, her voice catching.

"How can you tell him the truth?" He snorted. "He deserves to know."

"Yes, he does," she agreed. Her stomach tossed at the idea.

"I have to be back to the council," Louis sighed. "I'll let you know any major decisions and plans."

"Thank you." She nodded to him in parting and made her way toward her quarters.

Her head hurt, she was exhausted, and she was queasy after the upheaval of the day. She needed sleep before dinner and all the events of the evening.

\--- --- --- --- --- --- ---

Delia woke her up at the sixteenth hour. "Milady, you need to ready for dinner."

Kalysta groaned and rolled over. "I think I'll take dinner in my room tonight. Or not at all."

"Your father sent word that he wanted you at dinner specifically."

"Stubborn ass," Kalysta grumbled, repeating Louis's opinion.

"It's not my fault!" Delia protested.

"No, I wasn't referring to you," Kalysta laughed mirthlessly. "I was talking about my fool of a father. I told my parents at lunch that I was with child and, instead of discussing options or perhaps how I felt at the news, he started interrogating me about the father. Because that's what I want to talk to my father about." She snorted and stood up to ready herself. She was struck with a moment of vertigo, though, and immediately sat back down on the bed.

"Are you alright?"

"Yes, I'm fine." Kalysta stood back up and went to Delia, taking the dress the maid held out for her. "I'm tired of wearing black already," she moaned.

"Only another five months of it," Delia joked. "Since you brought it up, is there any chance your Ambassador is the father of your child?"

"Slim chance at best," Kalysta confessed. "Even if I wished my hardest, it doesn't change the fact that Zayn and I were doing our utmost not to let this happen, while the Prince had no such qualms. I can't even let myself hope for it."

"I'm confused how jumping into bed with the Ambassador falls under the description of 'doing your utmost' not to get with child," Delia snorted.

Kalysta sighed. "Very funny."

The evening passed excruciatingly slowly. It wasn't a large affair, just a few nobles sat with them in a dining room. Her father ignored her, talking to the noblemen about the effect the war would have on crop yields. Kalysta was focusing on not throwing up. Her stomach rebelled against every food placed in front of her. She had a few bites here and there so as not to appear rude, but she mostly pushed her food around her plate. Finally, dinner was over and she joined her mother and the noblewomen in a small parlor of couches. It was a time to sip tea and talk about the latest gossip and Kalysta felt no desire to join in. The tea settled her stomach some, for which she was grateful, but she just wanted to go back to bed.

\--- --- --- ---

Several weeks passed. She was incredibly bored for most of that time. Word was sent to her from the council chambers about the progression of the war. Murdoch had sent a force to the border of Elysium to attack and had sent another toward Wolvecaster close after. Louis assured her that they were several steps ahead of Murdoch in every move, but she could read between the lines of his messages. While they could handle Murdoch, they were still suffering high numbers of casualties. Mullingar troops suffered as well, but the loss of life made her more ill than the state in which her pregnancy left her.

She was also receiving word from Adam about Zayn's progress. She hadn't been back to visit him, though he'd sent word asking after her specifically. Since he was bed-ridden he was easy to evade him. He had surely heard of her pregnancy and she didn't know how to face him with that thought so prominent. It broke her heart to think of what he would say. Would he be kind about it? Would he reject her? She tortured herself with all the possibilities. She knew she would have to face him at some time, though.

Eventually, she read in a report that he could move about minimally, taking heavily assisted walks up and down the hall. She wanted to see this, and hang the consequences. She would see him.

When she went to the corridor where his room was located, he was up and about. Somehow, someone had managed to give him permanent use of one of the wheeled chairs. He was using it to assist in walking now. Putting most of his weight forward on it, he stepped carefully. Two nurses walked next to him, one on either side, hovering and ready to catch him should he lose his balance.

He looked good. Though he'd lost the lean muscle of before, he was working hard at regaining it. She had a minute to inspect him as he was focused on his feet and the effort of walking again. He said something to one of the nurses and she laughed, patting his shoulder. For a moment he stumbled, but he caught himself, steadied his body, and continued, slowly.

Kalysta stepped forward then, catching his attention. He looked up, smiled big, and she struggled not to run into his arms right that moment. In the time she'd been staying away he had regained full control over his facial muscles. It was both a relief and a pain. She hadn't realized how much she missed that smile while he was ill. A smile was his first response to seeing her, which gave her more hope than she cared to admit.

"Well, look who it is," she joked.

"I could say the same," he responded wistfully. "Ladies, I think I can handle this on my own for the moment."

"Sir Malik, I don't think it's a good idea to leave you alone," one voiced in censure.

"Thanks for your concern, but I'll be fine."

The nurses both sighed, but nodded and walked past Kalysta, curtsying slightly.

"Sir Malik?" Kalysta asked once they'd gone.

"I'm not exactly an ambassador anymore, am I?"

"I suppose not." She walked forward and stood in front of the chair. "You look good. How are you progressing?"

"Slower than I like, but I'll get there. Bethany says I should be walking on my own in another couple of weeks."

"Bethany?" She pushed down the irrational twinge of jealousy.

"One of the nurses," he answered, his grin letting her know that he was aware of her jealousy.

She sighed and walked over. "I've missed you," she whispered. She looped an arm around his waist and gestured for him to keep walking. She was confident she'd be able to help him stay upright.

"I asked you to come visit," he pointed out.

She listened for any traces of anger or reprimand in his voice, but there was none. All his voice had was a wistful sadness. "Louis said you were feeling more down since I was hovering," she confessed.

"He's an ass."

"No, he had a point. You were struggling with recovery and my presence wasn't doing much good."

"I understand."

Silence fell, not even an uncomfortable one. They reached the end of the corridor and turned around carefully. She slowed him down some, hoping that he'd be steadier and there would be less of a risk of him losing balance.

"How does it feel to be out of bed?" she asked next.

"Better than I can describe. I was starting to lose hope that I'd ever walk toward the end there. It felt like I'd been in that bed for years."

"You're more of a man of action, so I can imagine how it felt to be stuck for so long. Did you learn to knit or do anything productive while you lounged in bed?" she teased.

He laughed softly. "Not quite. I mostly brooded and annoyed my caregivers."

"Then I'm glad I wasn't here to partake in the annoyance."

"What about you?" he asked carefully. "I heard you've had a bit more time on your hands."

"I haven't been doing that much," she said, skating around the subject. She wasn't ready to talk about that yet.

As always, he seemed to sense her mood, for he changed the subject entirely. "You wouldn't believe what happened the other day," he said.

"What?"

"I had the nurses open my window for some fresh air, and a blasted sparrow flew in! Then, it punished me for its stupidity by flying about in circles near the ceiling and twittering its bloody beak off. I was even more motivated to walk just to get away from the thing."

Kalysta laughed and felt herself relax. Things would work out. Zayn was on the mend and his smile still cheered her more than anything else.


	93. Absent Father

Kalysta returned Zayn to his room and sat with him for a time. The past weeks away from him seemed insignificant when they were together again. There was much to talk about once she began filling him in on more of the details of the war. She felt hopeful, comforted afterwards.

Those blissful feelings didn't last long, however. Like a head wring, her subconscious dragged her back to torture when she fell asleep in her bed that evening. After the many nightmares she'd had, she wished she could get used to them, but it was impossible. They still had the same effect on her. She woke with a start, sweating profusely and crying.

Delia wasn't around this time to comfort her, otherwise Kalysta was sure her screams would have summoned the woman. As it was, Kalysta had a better idea for where to seek comfort. It had worked for her before.

She pulled on her ornate dressing gown and checked the corridor outside her room for activity. As she looked about, her plan seemed such a ridiculous venture that she almost returned to her bed. The thought of another nightmare strengthened her resolve.

When the corridor had cleared of passing servants, she hurried out, shutting the door behind her. It would be foolish to hope that she wouldn't be seen on the way, but she had to try to be seen by as few people as possible.

Those servants that glimpsed her and asked if she needed anything were promptly sent on their way.

She finally reached her destination: Zayn's room. The night nurse had fallen asleep in a chair positioned outside next to his door. No other person was present. Kalysta thanked whatever gods were listening for this stroke of luck.

The going was rough, but she managed to ease the door open without waking the woman stationed outside. Every squeak of the hinges and groan from the aged wood made her cringe. She closed and locked it behind her with as much care.

When she approached the bed, Zayn was still fast asleep, thanks to his exercise and struggle walking that day. She didn't want to alarm him, but neither was she comfortable with simply climbing into his bed if he wasn't there to encourage it. She settled for waking him gently, as she had in the past.

Slowly, she ran her fingers along his cheek and jaw. He fought waking at first, but when she brushed the hair from his forehead he opened his eyes groggily.

"Eh, what are you doing here, love?" he groaned, reaching up slowly to rub his eyes.

"I'm having trouble sleeping," she confessed. "Can I join you?"

"Course you can," he mumbled. "Is there something wrong?"

"I just need to be near you," she whispered, shedding her robe and climbing under the thin blanket.

"Alright," he whispered back, letting her curl into his side and wrapping an arm around her.

He wasn't wearing a shirt and Kalysta felt her mind calm at the warmth of his body heat radiating into her. Her muscles wouldn't relax, however. She was still tense. And there was no way he was comfortable with her rigid posture against him, so she tried again to relax herself enough for her body to loosen.

"Are you sure you're alright?" he asked, concern making his voice unsteady.

"I will be." She couldn't lie to him right now. No, she wasn't okay, but maybe with him around she could shake the memories.

He tightened his arm, squeezing her briefly, and ran his thumb along her shoulder.

Kalysta spent some time trying to calm her muscles, but it was pointless. And her unyielding body was clearly keeping Zayn from falling back to sleep. His breath was even, but not the deepened exchange of rest.

"I'm sorry," she whispered.

"Whatever for?"

"For keeping you up. If I'd known it'd be like this I would have stayed in my room." She sighed.

"Really, it's fine," he assured her.

It wasn't fine. The dreadful Prince had ruined her life in more ways than one and now the shadow of his memory was ruining both their nights. She was frustrated enough that a tear slipped out of her eye and ran into her hair. She clamped a lid on her emotions before any more leaked. Time passed as she pondered.

When an idea struck her, she almost immediately dismissed it. Zayn had barely started walking that day. He had to be exhausted. At the same time, if they both could relax, they both could sleep. She just needed to forget, and if she couldn't drink to accomplish that, then she would do something else.

Slowly, she shifted until her face was in the crook of his neck. His skin was smooth as she pressed her lips against one of the tattoos at the base of where his neck met his shoulder. Just as carefully, she ran a hand along the bare skin of his chest. His response was a soft sigh. She didn't stop, moving her lips up to his jaw.

"Kalysta, what are you doing?" he finally asked.

"Giving us a happiness." She ran her hand down his chest and across his stomach, making sure there was no doubt in his mind what she intended.

"I can't walk properly, love. What makes you think I'm up to that?"

She didn't say anything. She simply kissed closer to his mouth and ran her thumbnail along the waistline of his trousers. When he didn't give a verbal response to her actions, she raised up on one elbow and leaned over to kiss him fully. He accepted this, moving his lips strongly against hers and slipping his tongue into her mouth.

It didn't have the effect on her that she'd hoped. Her emotions, her care, were still tied to him, but her body didn't respond the way it normally did. There was no heightened arousal, no tightening in her. She worked harder, deepening the kiss and reaching up to wrap her hand into his hair. When she tightened her grip he gave a soft moan. That was good. The Prince hadn't made any noise with her. She needed Zayn to respond verbally, for it reminded her that she was with him, that it was alright to feel the pleasure at his touch.

And touch her he did. As she moved one knee across to the other side of him and hovered over his body, his hands rose to caress her sides and over the skin of her back exposed by the sparse fabric of her shift.

"Kalysta," he whispered in reverence.

She brought her body closer to his and brushed her hand down past his stomach to where his body displayed the opposite of his earlier assertion. He groaned and sighed as she palmed him through his trousers. "It seems as if you are up to it," she breathed.

"I don't have the energy for it," he groaned and laughed concurrently.

"You won't have to do a thing," she whispered, squeezing again and brushing her body against his at the same time. "I'll do all the work. You can stay right there."

His breathing deepened, but he was able to ask, "Why is this so important? What aren't you telling me, Kalysta?"

She withdrew her hand, rising to sit back on his legs. "I don't think any woman has had to work so hard to have a man just lie there while she pleasures him."

"I want to know why, now of all times, you need this happiness?"

She clenched her jaw. He knew her well, and sometimes that wasn't very helpful. "Memory replacement," she hissed. "I want to forget." Her voice turned pleading. "Please, I need to forget. And the best way to rid myself of the bad is to replace it with the good." She looked at him in the dim light from the moon, wondering how he would respond to such an admission. She'd all but said she was using him.

He put his hand over his eyes. She couldn't tell what he was thinking from this action, though. Was he angry? Angry with her, angry with the Prince? He let his hand drop beside him again and looked at her carefully. His eyes were full of sorrow, whether from his own pain or a perception of hers, she wasn't sure. He reached up to cup her face. "Whatever you need you may have," he breathed. "Can I touch you? Or is that..?" His voice cut out.

"I'll tell you if there's something I don't..." Neither of them were be able to finish a sentence. The subject was too painful. "I love you," she whispered next. "I don't want you to think that I'm just... I love you. I do."

"I know," he breathed. "I love you. And I'm sorry." He pulled at her hand to get her to lean back over him again and return her lips to his.

He kissed her, and kissed her, and kissed her more. They lay there, she straddling him and he kissing her until she yearned for more. She kissed down his body, but he stopped her.

"Come on," he whispered, gesturing up.

"What?"

"I may not be able to move very well, but I have complete control over my mouth again," he prompted, giving her a suggestive smirk. "Put your knees here." He patted his hands on either side of his head. "You can stay there all night if you wish."

She gave a small laugh, but her curiosity overwhelmed her, so she complied, moving her body up the bed. She pulled off her shift, put a knee on either side of his head, and steadied herself on the massive headboard before looking down at him.

He kissed the inside of her thigh and ran his hands up and down her sides. "You alright?" he asked, kissing her other thigh.

"Yes."

"Then get down here."

She lowered herself carefully onto his mouth and what she hadn't been able to feel before she certainly felt now. He started immediately. His mouth pulled and his tongue moved with a finesse she was surprised he could manage in his physical state. The rising pleasure both frightened her and exhilarated her. She was fighting against the memories that wanted to creep in. He grabbed her hand and put it into his hair again, which helped for a moment, but she still had to wrench her mind away from the fear and anxiety that loomed. She pulled at his hair, unable to continue and meaning to move away, but he hummed against her. The noise and sensation were good. It brought her back, back to him, back to where she was and tethered her there.

"Louder," she breathed, staying where she was and hoping for the best.

He complied, the moan rumbling in his chest and sending vibrations up into her body. She gasped, giving in to the thrill pulsing up her body. This was good. Her fear was fading as she focused on who she was with and allowed herself this time.

She let herself go, basking in the feeling of her body instead of what her mind invoked. When she was in danger of losing the moment to a memory, she pressed herself harder against his mouth. As the intensity rose in her, she couldn't help the movement of her hips in a rhythm that brought her closer and closer to the release she needed. He never ceased in his attention, showing her every pleasure she'd been missing in the months they'd been apart. She reveled in the attention for some time, working through any fear or anxious thought as it arose. Eventually, he brought a hand up to press his thumb into the cleft above his mouth. With the two promptings of his mouth and thumb, her body tensed and she had to bite a knuckle of her fist to keep from crying out as the pleasure intensified and spilled out into every portion of her body.

She lay down and moved under the blanket again, curling into him and wrapping her arms around his torso. Her utter relief made her feel like crying, but she held it in. Men seemed to be afraid of tears no matter the emotion prompting them. Tears were the last thing a man wanted during such activities. But it was amazing to feel relief and comfort instead of fear and anxiety. She was a step closer to healing though she knew she was far from it entirely.

"Are you alright, love?" he asked quietly, running his fingers up and down her arm.

"Yes." She didn't want to talk. She wanted to simply be with him.

Before she lost her nerve, she kissed his chest and moved until she was over him again, kissing down his body. She had missed this, the slight divot formed by the muscles of his chest, the tattoos running across his abdomen. He hadn't regained all the muscle that he'd lost in his illness, but she didn't care. This was still Zayn, the man who had rescued her and cared for her after she fell from into the sea, the man who had made the burden of Royalty seem so much smaller, the man who had seen her anger and stubbornness and loved the fire in her, and the man who was willing to give his life for her country. All that had happened simply made her love him more.

She pulled down his loose pants and took him into her mouth. He groaned softly and his legs shifted. She took her time, but between the movement of her hand on what her mouth couldn't reach and the curl of her tongue at the head he was quickly agitated and moaning beneath her. She loved it, bringing him such pleasure.

Before he could have his release she moved away, though.

"Wha-?" he gasped, confused.

She shifted up his body and put her knees on either side of his hips. He groaned as he realized her intent. She kissed his neck and grabbed him in her hand, holding him still as she ran the wetted folds of her cleft along his length. He gasped and tensed at the changed sensations.

The process wasn't as easy as she'd hoped, though. When she tried to take him into her body the pain was sharp, worse than the first time they were together. She acknowledged the pain and persevered, but her body simply wouldn't accept him.

"No, no, no," he groaned. It wasn't a groan of pleasure so she moved away. "That's not going to work." His face was pained.

"What do you mean?"

"You're still not relaxed enough," he answered, gesturing to her. "It's fine. Get back up here. We'll try after you've finished again."

It felt selfish to accept his offer, particularly when he was so painfully aroused, but she couldn't think of what else to do. She positioned her body over his mouth again and he took her over the edge, more quickly this time.

However, when she tried again, situating herself to take him in, it was still just as painful and unattainable. She wanted to cry once more, this time with frustration. She had no control over her body and she'd hoped they had worked through the worst of the physical problems already. That clearly wasn't the case and it was worse than demoralizing.

"It's alright, love," he whispered, grabbing her hand and pulling her down so he could kiss her. His soft lips confirmed what he'd said. "Your mouth is fine for me. Just take this a bit at a time. You don't have to figure it all out tonight."

She laid down on his chest for a while, taking a break to wrestle with the fears and anxiety that threatened to overwhelm her. He rubbed her arm and spoke soft words of comfort. She focused on the rising of his chest to moderate her own breathing and waited until she could move without despair crushing her. It was some time before she felt like she was ready.

He had softened in the absence of her touch, but it didn't take much encouragement from her to get him to rise and thicken. She didn't have anything to apologize for, but she still wanted to give him something special for all they'd been through that evening. She started off slow, taking as much of him into her mouth as she could and sliding her tongue along him gently. His swearing and gasps were enough to tell her how he felt about it. After a moment of maneuvering, she propped her one hand to the side, brought the other to cup the twin orbs below, and increased the pull of her mouth around the very tip of him. He cried out and she moved her mouth back enough to shush him before taking him in again. His silence was maintained only because his jaw was clenched shut and his hips were twitching disjointedly. After a minute of this, he was begging. "Please," he breathed, "Kalysta, bloody... great gods, please." She obliged, bringing her hand up to move quickly along his thill as she increased the pressure of her mouth. He gasped and a moment later his body heaved upward, he twitched in her hand, and his release spilled into her mouth. It tasted of salt when it first touched her tongue, but she swallowed the flow and it didn't leave any taste behind.

He was still breathing heavily, but it slowed as she laid down beside him and rested her head in the crook of his neck. She was incredibly happy with the experience, loving the way his body moved and glad she had this pleasure to give him.

"Like I said," he whispered, "your mouth is just bloody fantastic."

"That's not what you said before," she teased.

"Well, it's what I meant."

They didn't say another word. He drifted off almost immediately and it didn't take her long to follow suit. Her body was relaxed twice over and she'd never felt more at peace.

\--- --- --- ---

She woke, before the sun, from a slumber so deep that it took her a time to figure out just where she was. Zayn's breath against her hair reminded her and she tightened the leg she had wrapped around one of his. It had been such a long time since she'd rested this well and she didn't want to wake up. However, her mind was alert and she wasn't sure she'd be able to fall asleep again.

So she simply lay there, running a finger along the tattoos on his chest and stomach and wishing she could stay in the bed with him all day. She wasn't looking forward to the day's revelations, between the war and her own problems. It was easier to ignore it all and lounge in his presence.

She knew when he awoke, because he took a deep breath, stretched, and released a contented sigh.

"G'mornin', love," he whispered, his voice deep and gravelly because of the early hour and his previous injuries. "Sleep alright?"

"If I had slept any better I would have died," she joked.

"Well, it took you a bit to relax, but I got you there in the end." He said this and slipped his hand over to grab her bottom. He squeezed gently and made a humming noise in his throat. "I like you wrapped around me in the morning," he added.

"You like me wrapped around you at any time."

"Very true," he laughed. He squeezed again and moved his body subtly, creating slight friction between her thigh and his half-mast manhood.

She was surprised by just how little provocation it took for her to be incredibly aroused. Already she was wishing for his hand to be elsewhere. She shifted up a bit and slid her cleft against the prominence of his hip, pressing down and whimpering as the pressure sent chills up her spine.

"Gods, Kalysta," he groaned, "I love that noise." He gripped her more tightly and pressed her hips against his forcefully. "Again."

She wanted more than that, so she pulled his hand from its grip on her bottom and moved it between her legs where she needed it most.

He curled two fingers upward immediately, barely pressing into her and she groaned for more. She moved to straddle his body, desperate for what only he could elicit from her. He kept his hand between her legs, bringing his thumb up and sliding his fingers along the folds of her. It still wasn't enough, so she moved her hips forcefully on his hand and leaned down to kiss him deeply. The feeling was better than the night before, as if her body was more ready to accept the pleasure he offered. Good rest helped as well, no doubt.

"I want to try again," she whispered, pulling back from his lips.

"Are you sure?" His eyes and voice were wary. "You don't have to, by any means. I don't expect anything of you other than what you can do. Whatever you're ready for, I'm fine with."

"I want to," she repeated. She pressed herself into his hand a few more times before she pressed herself down on him.

His breathing grew a bit erratic as she held him and carefully lowered herself onto him. At first it hurt, but not nearly as intensely as the night before. She was able to take him in fully and a few quick movements helped lessen the pain. When the pleasure rose again she steadied herself with her hands on his chest and moved her hips more quickly.

He swore, gripping her hips and kicking his head back into the pillow. His chest was heaving and his stomach tensed as he jutted his hips up to meet hers. It didn't take long for the pressure to increase enough that she was moaning with every joining of their hips. This must have cued him, because he brought a hand around and pressed into her cleft.

Kalysta gasped as he quickened his fingers. She drove down harder and faster with her hips and Zayn called out quickly. "Kalysta, I'm-" His words cut out as a moan rumbled from his chest, but she could tell he was trying to warn her of his impending finish. She didn't care. She continued and it was only a moment before he groaned again. "Kalysta, you need-"

She continued her movement and it was done for him. His body tensed, his hips thrust upward again, and he swore as he released into her. The movement of his manhood inside of her was unfamiliar, but exquisite, and it freed the building pressure. She cried out as the thrill spread out from her abdomen. She dug her fingernails in the skin of his chest, her back arched, and she continued her movements on him as she got her own release.

The incredible feeling dissipated slowly and she lay down beside him to drift in the remainder of the sensation. If she could feel like she did in this moment all the time she didn't think she'd ever have another complaint.

But she should have known it was too good to last.

"Why did you do that?" Zayn groaned quietly. "Why didn't you move when I said? You knew I didn't have the strength to move you myself."

Her mind was still fuzzy. "One doesn't have to worry about getting with child when they're already carrying one." Her careless words broke the haze. She sat up and covered her mouth with her hands, wishing the words unsaid the minute she uttered them.

"Then it's true," he breathed. He put a hand over his eyes, masking most of his expression. The downturn of his mouth was obvious, though.

"You had to have heard about it." She said the words carefully, but she was frustrated that he was acting like this. Yes, she'd broken the news in a poor fashion, but did he have to look so miserable? It wasn't as if he were the one with child.

"I heard rumors only. And it's easy to ignore rumors that you don't want to believe." He dropped his hand back next to him and fixed her with a direct stare. "The real question is why you didn't tell me before now? Is that why you weren't coming to visit anymore? Why would you keep something like this from me?" His voice was past anger.

Kalysta's own anger flared and it made her cruel. "I'm not the only one who has kept secrets."

"I said I was sorry for that!" he protested. It was a low blow for her to bring up the past, but her anger made her ambivalent. He took a deep breath to calm himself. "Do you know if the child is mine?"

"Most likely it is not."

"At least there's something good. Less for me to worry about then," he added, almost under his breath.

"What's that supposed to mean?" she gasped. She couldn't believe how callous that phrase was in relation to all that had happened to them.

"I'm not ready for a child, that's all."

Confusion made her pause, but the anger returned with full force. "Well, go ahead and celebrate," she said snidely. "You don't have to worry about a pesky bastard child weighing you down. You're free to go about living your carefree life entertaining bored noblewomen."

"No, Kalysta, that's not-"

"You know," she interrupted, "I find it funny that you are kind and comforting and understanding until you perceive there is some risk of gaining responsibility, some threat to your freedom." She couldn't seem to stop talking and spouting her frustration.

"I didn't say that and you know it!" His anger was growing as well.

She didn't care what he'd meant to say. His disregard for her feelings hurt. "You're missing the point! It may not be your child, but I still carry one! It's proof once again that a woman has to pay for everything!"

"Do you think I'm not paying for what happened?" he returned, his voice snapping like a whip. "Look at me! I can barely walk! I almost died! Don't act like you're the only one paying for our mistake!"

"Mistake?" she hissed. His words incensed her.

"Getting caught, being careless, however you want to look at it!"

Their voices were getting louder and louder.

This was worse than she had expected. She crawled off the bed and pulled on her shift. "Well, I'm glad we had this talk before you got on your feet," she commented, purposefully making her voice emotionless. "I wasn't planning on making you responsible for anything, but now that I know how adamant you are against it, I'm pleased there was no reason you might be given any responsibility. Congratulations. You're not a father." She slipped on her robe. "The silly thing is, I actually wanted this to be your child. How naïve I was! All I could think was that I didn't want to have the child of a man who raped me, that the child of a man I loved would be better. Seems in either case this child would have an absent father, whether because I killed the one man or because the other ran off the minute things got tough. You're more like your brother than I thought, Sir Malik."

His eyes widened and his mouth gaped, but her verbal lashing struck him dumb.

Kalysta unlocked the door and left before he could gather his wits.

The nurse was outside waiting. "How is Sir Malik this morning?" she asked.

"He seems a little stressed," Kalysta replied passively. "I can't imagine why. Good day." She turned on her heel and walked back to her room as the morning light appeared.


	94. The Head of the Snake

Delia was in her rooms when Kalysta returned.

"I assume you went to visit your man for the night?" Delia asked, setting out the black mourning clothing for Kalysta's outfit that day. "It's not often that I come in to check on you and find an empty bed."

"Well, don't fret," Kalysta snorted, crossing her arms petulantly. "It won't be a problem anymore."

"Ah, a lover's spat?"

"Don't make it sound so inconsequential; it was more than that!" Kalysta complained, sitting on the edge of her bed. "That man is the absolute most selfish and uncaring person I've had the misfortune of meeting."

"Hmm, I hope that's not why you keep going back to his bed." Delia's voice was purposefully noncommittal.

"He's never been like this before!"

"What did he say?"

"I told him about my pregnancy this morning and he kept going on about how glad he was that the child wasn't his! He didn't even stop to ask me how I felt about it or how I was handling the news! It was just 'I'm not ready to be a father' and such rubbish!" she said, putting on a sarcastically deep voice in imitation of him.

Delia simply looked at her for a moment and then said, "Is that all?"

"Well, yes, what else would there be?" Kalysta asked incredulously. "Isn't that enough?"

"You've never been one to get your hackles up over so little," Delia pointed out. "You have an incredible anger, but you usually save it for things that hold import. Were you expecting him to be excited? To promise that he'd help you out and you'd spend your lives together happy and carefree as he works to bring down his father and his country?"

"I... not exactly," Kalysta grumbled. "But I at least thought he'd be considerate of my feelings!"

"Milady, men don't always respond well in those situations, even the ones who really are the father." Delia's voice was gentle. "The two of you have been through much and any relationship you've had thus far is still young. Go. Talk to him. Perhaps you misheard or he misspoke. Regardless, forgive him and show him some grace. It will go a long way for both of you. I'm sure he's still that good man you fell in love with. Don't let the Prince ruin this for you."

Guilt made Kalysta feel heavy. She had been harsh. But he wasn't free of blame either. She couldn't make up her mind what she wanted. It was better to wait until her mind was sure. So she waited.

The formal announcement of her pregnancy was made that evening at a dinner her father called for all the nobles present in the castle. She was seated at the Royal table in the banquet hall when her father rose to give the news. He hadn't consulted her ahead of time, but at that point she really didn't care anymore what her father did or said. She had other worries.

All the noble families there came to congratulate her afterward, as was expected, but she was barely able to hold a mask of joy over her despair. Yes, a Royal would be born, but she couldn't muster any happiness for herself. The idea was still too new, too raw.

When Louis and Thomas approached her, extending their necessary congratulations, she let her mask slip a bit. Both were very aware of her feelings on the subject and neither faked happiness. The tightening around Louis's mouth indicated just how little he cared for the idea and as always, Thomas's comments were confusing. He looked more calculating than anything else, but she was too tired of it all to really worry about whatever his mind was scheming next.

She excused herself the minute it was proper, voicing exhaustion. At least no one questioned a pregnant woman in this regard. Whatever ailment she concocted could be blamed on her condition.

The next week passed achingly slow. Gifts poured in from nobles for the coming child and Kalysta couldn't bear it. She spent most of her time with her mother and Delia. Zayn didn't contact her, nor she him. They would fix things eventually, of that she was sure. They always fixed things.

Most of the time was spent with her mother. They alternated between sewing clothes for the incoming refugees and knitting blankets for the coming child. Though they had more than enough baby items gifted to them already, the Queen insisted that Kalysta start work on a quilt for the baby as well. She was adamant. Kalysta protested at first, until her mother brought up a valid point. "Do you have anything else to keep you busy, dear? Or were you planning on spending the next eight or so months stewing about not being involved in the war council?"

The only problem was that the menial chore kept her hands busy, but not her mind. She was free to contemplate everything that could happen and brood over the argument with Zayn. Everything was a mess she didn't know how to fix.

The war at Elysium's borders grew worse. Refugees were pouring in and only a trickle were able to leave for refugee camps in other areas. The city was crowded and it was only through strict discipline and enforcement of rules that the entire place wasn't chaos. Elysian guards had extra tasks on their hands, policing and governing the influx.

Thomas's Head General, Crawford, sent word requesting the delivery of more surgeons and physicians to the battle front to care for the wounded and determine those who were still able to fight. Though the Mullingan troops were outnumbered, they were being directed by a King who was cunning in his madness. Both sides suffered heavy casualties, such that winning a battle didn't feel like a success anymore.

All of this was relayed to her by Louis at certain points as the weeks wore on. He was receiving reports constantly and many times their conversations were interrupted as new word was brought in from the battle.

A month passed.

Zayn had obviously made great bounds in his recovery, for he attended some of the noble dinners her father put on. He sat by Louis and Thomas at the other end of the table from her and did not speak to her. She tried to quell the hurt at this, but she didn't approach him either. Her pride prevented her from making the first move.

The midwife continued to admonish Kalysta for clearly being exhausted, but Kalysta knew that lack of sleep wasn't the problem. Her exhaustion was mental as she tried to cope with everything that had happened over the past months. She was barely keeping a hold on her sanity, it seemed. She gained noticeable weight, but her nausea eased.

During that time, Kalysta went to the infirmary to find something to do. Her mind was too free and all her anxious thoughts and waking nightmares made her miserable. She needed a distraction.

The physician, Adam, assigned her to feeding the bed-ridden sick and injured. Some were soldiers and some were refugees, but all who were lucid enough were a bit confused at being fed soup and bread by the Princess. She didn't care. Working with them reminded her why it was so important that they win this war. All of these people would be in even worse shape if under Murdoch's rule. She spoke with several soldiers from Velia and Wolvecaster. One Velian, named Donald, became her favorite patient.

He was an older man, perhaps a decade her father's senior, but was in good health apart from his severed limbs. His favored arm had been cut off in the battle and infection from a wound necessitated the removal of the opposing leg. Despite this, he was in high spirits.

"My grandfather survived worse in the Five-Year War," he always said. He then spoke of his excitement at returning home to his wife, children, and three grandchildren. "My daughter, Nikole, is working on the fourth grandchild," he added. "Now, I heard tell that you are expectin' your own little one. Now, that's a good thing. I remember when my first, Curtis, was born. That was a glorious day." The best part was that Donald had plenty to say and didn't require Kalysta's personal input. She could ask him questions about everything and he would gladly respond.

One day, though, he said something that stuck with her. "Princess, I know you probably weren't loving that Prince you married, but if you ever do find yourself a deserving man, don't let him go. A good man needs an even better woman to stand by him and I know you're just that. Someday, when you're old like me, family is all you'll have and you need a good one."

The words hit her soundly in the part of her that was too prideful to find Zayn and apologize for her hasty words. They'd both said hurtful things, but now she could see how foolish it was to hold onto the poisonous anger. It was up to her to fix what had happened, though she wasn't sure what fixing things would accomplish. They had agreed not to speak of marriage, but she couldn't leave things the way they were.

"If you'll excuse me," she said, leaving the infirmary.

Donald had no problem. He simply turned his talking to the person in the bed next to his.

She left quickly. She needed to find Zayn before her mind changed. It was an incredibly irritating part of pregnancy, it seemed, that her mind fluctuated rapidly according to her mood.

Louis caught her in the hallway before she'd located Zayn, though. "Princess," he called, "just the person I was trying to find!"

"Yes Commander?"

"I have something I need to discuss with you."

"Now?"

"Well, it is time-sensitive, yes."

Kalysta sighed. "Yes, I suppose I have a moment."

"Then walk with me," he offered, holding out his arm. She took it and waited for him to broach the subject of the time-sensitive topic. "You know that the war is quite difficult at the moment?"

"Yes," she answered, wondering where he was going with it.

"General Crawford sends word that there's been some unrest between some of the Velian and Cheshine soldiers. He asked that I come and settle the disputes as well as get a glimpse of the battle front myself."

"Do you think it's a good idea?"

"It's difficult to help command forces when you haven't seen the battlefield, so yes," Louis said. "As well, I have good insight into both Velia's and Cheshire's culture, so I'm the most apt to settle disputes. I also wanted to discuss bringing your Head Physician with me."

"Adam? Why do you need him?"

"They could use all the physicians they can get. There are a lot of wounded on the fronts."

She walked with him silently for a moment, then said, "Discuss it with Adam first, but if you think it's necessary then I'm sure we can spare him."

"Thank you, that's very gracious of you."

"Was there anything else?" Kalysta was confused as to how any of what they discussed was time-sensitive.

Louis sighed and looked out the window at the setting sun. "I was supposed to keep you occupied until the sun had gone down completely, but I am loathe to lie to you after what happened the last time."

"Keep me? Lie to me? What is going on, Louis?" she snapped.

"This is for you." He sighed, pulling a folder paper out of his pocket and handing it to her. It had her name written in Zayn's simple script on the outside.

Her heart sank as she took it and looked up to meet Louis's gaze. She knew exactly what this meant. "He's gone, hasn't he?" she whispered.

"Yes, Kalysta, I'm so sorry," Louis said earnestly. "I don't know what happened to the two of you, but he didn't want to say goodbye in person."

Kalysta took a deep breath to hold in the tears at that news. She'd been going to apologize, but she was too late. "It's fine, Louis."

She opened the letter.

_Kalysta,_

_This note is a coward's goodbye. Louis asked if I would return to the Partheos to be a naval messenger and I've agreed. Don't be too angry with him; I made him swear to distract you._

_Your anger with me is well-deserved, though. I behaved myself poorly in our last exchange and I was entirely insensitive. Whatever I said, I did not mean to make you feel alone in this or lead you to believe that my care was dependent on the freedom and flighty chances that our love provided. My own fear got the better of me, and I hurt you in the process. For that, I am incredibly sorry._

_When I spoke of not wanting to be a father, I spoke carelessly. It's not that I see a child as a burden or undesirable; any child of yours would be even less so. No, I meant that my own fear and atrocious upbringing make me loathe to have a child in my care. Whether the child is mine or my brother's, neither father would be equipped to raise it. I didn't have enough time with my mother to pick up an idea of how to nurture, and Niall would have even less of an idea._

_Your child has the best advantage if they are away from the line of Murdoch. Perhaps, in your care, the child can break this family's curse of misery and pain. You have enough love to do that._

_So I hope that, when I say I'm not ready for a child, you'll understand that you are the only person I've ever had the chance to love so assuredly and unequivocally and I can't know if I am capable of extending that to a child. I simply can't know._

_Rather than complicate your life and your child's life with the weight of the past, I am removing myself from the situation so you can better care for your own. That child needs all your love and I will have to do without it._

_I'll say again that I am sorry for your pain and your perceiving that I don't care for what you face. I care more than I can express adequately in this. I hope you keep my mother's flask and look back on our time fondly._

_All my love,_

_Zayn._

She didn't bother hiding the tears anymore. A coward's goodbye indeed. But after his confessions in it, she couldn't truly blame him anymore.

"Kalysta, I'm sorry," Louis reiterated. "He was chomping at the bit."

Kalysta nodded, unable to voice anything at that moment. She read through the letter again, trying to make sense of Zayn's fears. It hadn't occurred to her to suppose that he could see himself in such a negative light, or even that he would group himself with his family. Her cutting words comparing him to his brother were even worse now.

"I forgave him, though," she whispered aloud, careless of Louis's presence.

Louis didn't respond except to put a hand on her arm and squeeze it comfortingly.

"We could have fixed it." The pounding of her heart in her chest felt like the force of a horse's hooves thundering against the ground, painful and heavy. She looked up at Louis. "I forgave him," she repeated. "If you see him, tell him that. Tell him I'm sorry, that I forgave him, and that... that he needs to come back. Tell him to come back."

"I'll do my best, Princess."

"Will you at least tell me goodbye before you go?" she asked.

"Of course."

"Thank you," she whispered. She nodded at him in her departure, barely keeping in the sobs and burning tears that begged to be shed.

\--- --- --- --- --- --- ---

Louis sent word later that evening that he would be leaving by the end of the week, a few days away.

Kalysta was determined to write a letter for him to take for Zayn. The only problem was that she couldn't figure out what the letter should say.

She made several attempts that evening, each more pathetic than the last. Her head hurt, she was exhausted, and she wondered how her life could have turned into such a tragedy. Pain and joy, never one without the other. However, the scales were tipped toward pain at the moment, and she hated having to wait for joy to return.

She stayed up late into the night despite Delia's admonishment. Though there was time before Louis left, she wanted to finish the letter soon and have time to consider its wording and tone before being sent off. If Zayn truly felt the way he did, harsh or inconsiderate words would do nothing to solve their problem.

\--- --- --- --- ---

Delia woke her in the morning. "I thought you were supposed to be giving that babe proper rest. Sleeping at your desk isn't the way to do that, I promise."

"Read this for me," Kalysta yawned, holding out her last attempt at a letter. "Does it sound too despondent?"

Delia glanced over it. "So your lover left did he? That man has a death wish. His nurse said he's not even done healing."

"Which is why he needs to come back!"

"You're apologizing left and right in this. What did you say to the man in that argument of yours?"

"Something horrible," Kalysta groaned, covering her eyes and leaning her elbows on the desk. "I said he was more like his brother than I'd thought, and that-that he only cared about his freedom, not my well-being... Oh, it's all just in shambles."

"You compared him to the man that took you against your will?"

"I was angry! We both said terrible things! He's apologized and now it's my turn."

"How did he apologize?"

Kalysta gave her the letter from Zayn and went back to hiding behind her hands.

Delia took a minute to read it and then scoffed. "The two of you are such dunderheads it's a miracle you got this far without tearing each other's' faces off!"

"What's that supposed to mean?" Kalysta protested.

"He says something asinine, you take offense, you say something equally or more horrible. Where does it end? If you really love him, can't you give him the benefit of the doubt when he says something stupid? From this it's obvious that what he said wasn't meant to hurt or estrange you."

"But he's the one who left me!" Kalysta cried. She broke down into uncontrollable sobs. "He's gone and he probably won't come back!"

"Milady! Please calm your hysterics!" Delia snapped. "You're emotional and I understand that, but this is your pregnancy talking right now."

Kalysta hiccupped, but tried to stop crying. It wasn't often that Delia yelled, particularly lately.

"Good," Delia continued quietly. "Now, send your letter and let him work this out for himself. I only hope he has someone like me to knock some sense into that fool head of his."

"Is my letter good enough?" Kalysta asked.

"In this case, I think less is more. Keep it simple, tell him how you feel, and hope for the best."

Kalysta swiped at her tears and wetted the quill of her pen once more.

\--- --- --- --- ---

Over the next couple of days she went back to her role of helping in the infirmary. She spoke with Adam and found that he was eager to go to the front line, for reasons she couldn't fathom. But on the day Louis was to leave not even the former soldier's, Don's, talk of home and family could distract her from her somber thoughts.

Her pregnancy was incredibly noticeable to her, even if it wasn't to others. She felt the weight in her stomach and was secretly terrified for when the baby would begin to move, as Mama Gia told her it would. All the other symptoms were easing, but the fear remained. And the usual buffer for her fear and anxiety had gone.

Zayn had just left. He'd gone and there was no way to know if he would ever return. They'd said harsh things, but she had never considered the fact that it would lead to such actions. She had no way to predict this. Never had their anger or frustration with the other reached such proportions.

Louis came to find her in the infirmary to tell her goodbye, as promised. He pulled her outside with him so they could speak freely. When Kalysta handed him her letter he sighed. "I think it's rich that Zayn is going to be the messenger, but I'm the one carrying all the messages."

"Please?" Kalysta begged.

"Why don't you send a messenger to the _Partheos_ in Westtown?"

"I thought Zayn was running from me. You think he hasn't left port yet?"

Louis gave her a wry look. "I think he will come to find that the person he's running from is himself. He took off on a horse like the gods were chasing him, but he hasn't recovered entirely. My bet is that he expended his little reserves of energy in riding to Westtown. He's probably moping aboard the _Partheos_ anchored in the cove while he regains his strength. Believe me, I know the man well."

Kalysta sighed and nodded. "I guess this is goodbye then?"

"Let's hope that when next we see each other there is peace in Dalitrise." He reached out and gripped her shoulder.

Kalysta looked down, embarrassed at the tears pricking her eyes.

Louis sighed. "Now I know why he doesn't like saying goodbye to you in person," he teased. "You get all weepy."

"Hush," he laughed softly in spite of herself. "It will be nice to have your annoying commentary out of my life."

"And I'll miss your swift anger and cutting tongue," he countered.

She laughed and hugged him quickly before she changed her mind about it.

He returned the hug briefly before stepping away and bowing. "Always a pleasure, Your Highness."

She sent the messenger on his way that very day and waited.

\--- --- --- --- ---

Zayn's POV

"Oi, Cap, there's a messenger from the Royal City!"

Zayn pried himself from the comfort of his bed with much effort. "How could Louis have something already?" he protested. "I just got appointed to being courier! What's he playing at?" He wrenched open the door to his cabin and barely kept himself from yelling at the messenger before him.

"This is from the Royal City, Sir Malik," the man said carefully.

"Sure, sure, thank you. See Mahir. He'll see that it was worth your time." Zayn took the letter from the man and froze when he saw the writing on the outside. It wasn't Louis's simple lettering. The script was flowing and elegant and Zayn knew exactly who from the Royal City was sending him a letter. He swore under his breath.

"Is there a return note?"

Zayn looked up to see that the messenger hadn't moved. "I-No. No return." Whatever she had to say he couldn't face at that moment. He had run, but he hadn't run far enough apparently.

"Weigh anchor!" he bellowed, frightening the messenger. "Go," he ordered the man. "Get your payment and get off my ship. I have things to be about."

He shook his arms to rid them of the heaviness of exhaustion and strode up the steps to the top deck. He'd made a commitment. It didn't matter what she said. He wasn't going back.

Kalysta's POV

The fog returned. Her stomach was in knots because of the pregnancy and her own mental anguish, but that wasn't enough to shake her from the stupor her mind called up as a defense mechanism. Thankfully, Mama Gia the midwife let her have as much bedrest as she wanted since Kalysta had been so tired.

Delia put her foot down after a week of it, though. "Milady, this isn't pregnancy exhaustion. Get up." Kalysta moaned in complaint, but Delia wasn't going to hear it. "You're going to go for a walk in the gardens," she continued. "It's a beautiful day. You're going to pretend to enjoy it. If you want to be alone out there, then fine, but you won't shut yourself up in here anymore. Moving will help your stomach too, I think. Now, get dressed."

Kalysta did as ordered, barely, and walked in the garden. Soon, though, the heat of the sun on her black clothing was enough that she sat on a bench beneath the shade of a tree. It was there that a servant greeted her.

"Princess, you're needed in the council chambers."

"Excuse me?"

"There is a Bradian delegation from the ship the _Partheos_. King Thomas said you should be fetched immediately."

The _Partheos_! Had Zayn returned?

"Yes, of course, thank you." She stood and hurried after him.

She reached the council chambers just moments before the delegation. And it wasn't Zayn. He'd sent others in his place.

"Zayn sends word that Murdoch is marshalling his navy," Mahir announced loudly, stepping into the room. "We're not sure where he plans to send them exactly, but it's safe to assume he'll send them against the coastal cities of Elysium. He'd be foolish to split his forces to attack another nation at the moment."

"Now, I could have sworn that Zayn had been brought on as a messenger," Thomas protested. "What is he doing on a reconnaissance mission near Mullingar's ports?" He raised his eyebrows at Mahir, clearly expecting to be given a good reason.

"Wars are never won without risks." Mahir returned the gaze without fear and then turned to the room at large again. "Westtown is your largest port, is it not?"

"Yes it is," Kalysta chimed in. "The others are little more than fishing villages. But we haven't had any developed navy since the Five-Year War. What does he hope to accomplish with this? He can't cripple a navy that doesn't exist."

Mahir said, "Canons work just as well on houses as ships" just as Thomas chimed in with "It's a prime military target to create casualties." They both stopped and narrowed their eyes at each other.

"I think both points are valid," Kalysta voiced. This drew everyone's attention except Thomas's and Mahir's. They still stared at each other. "Murdoch has no moral boundaries. He will attack whoever he can and if he can decrease morality at the same time, he will. Louis mentioned they created a Cheshine and Bradian blockade just before the estuary near the city of Karim. Mullingan ships aren't designed for wide open water. They're coastal raiding vessels. It makes sense that they would follow the coastline up to Elysium rather than risk trying to skirt the blockade to reach the other nations."

"Well, well, well, Princess, it's nice to have your insight back in the planning," Thomas chuckled, finally turning from Mahir. "She's right. We need to start planning. Do we move the people from along the coastlines as well? It's going to get awfully crowded around here. Have we contacted Harry about sending refugees to him?"

Kalysta felt alive again. Once more she was able to give input and be involved in the plans. It didn't matter what her personal problems were. She was helping people.

They did their planning throughout the day. It was invigorating for her, knowing what was going on and sharing her thoughts. Louis had kept her very up-to-date on what was going on in the war, so Kalysta didn't feel like she was missing anything that they discussed. Even Thomas was surprised by her knowledge in the area. She purposefully ignored her father. They still hadn't resolved their issues.

Her problem with her father could be fixed easily if she apologized, but she wasn't going to do that. There was no reason she should have to apologize. She got along well with her mother now, so she would have to settle for that.

She took her leave when evening arrived. Mahir retired as well, stating that he needed to be up early the next morning to go back to the _Partheos_ in Westtown. Kalysta was glad for the opportunity to speak with him.

"Mahir," she said, walking next to him. "How have you fared?"

He sighed. "We've been running about frantically, which isn't normal for us. I think the men were getting used to lounging around while the Captain recovered."

"Speaking of whom..." Kalysta paused a moment. "D-Did he get my letter?"

"He received a letter the evening before we left, but I am not sure of the sender of that letter," he replied diplomatically.

"Oh come off it," she snapped. "Does he have a return message, Mahir? What did he say?"

"As far as I know, he never opened the letter." Mahir's voice was pained. "He keeps it on his person while pretending it doesn't mean anything, but I've never once seen him open it. If he has read what the letter said, he hasn't mentioned it to me or anyone else."

Kalysta swallowed past the pain that welled in her throat. She hadn't known what to expect from him, but this hadn't even been an option she had considered. "Never opened it?" she asked.

"No, I'm sorry."

"What an ass," she breathed next.

"Would you like another message sent to him?"

"No, that won't be necessary." She held her voice steady. "It seems there won't be any more reason for correspondence between me and Sir Malik, but I thank you for the thought." It was difficult to keep up this front, but she refused to let anyone see how much his actions hurt her. "Stay safe, though, please? You were a valuable asset on my trip to the other nations and I would hate to think that you put yourself into any danger in your ventures."

"He ain't the same, Princess," Mahir said, crossing his arms and keeping his eyes averted. "I doubt he would welcome my sharing that observation with you, but I thought you should know all the same."

Kalysta didn't know how to respond, so she simply nodded in dismissal and turned to go. The feeling of life she'd possessed earlier slowly drained. She didn't know how to revive it and in its absence the mental fog spread out again.

She didn't return to the council chambers. Her mind wasn't working the way she wanted, no matter how much she told herself that a man shouldn't have this effect on her. Nothing helped. So she pulled away, hiding in the gardens most days.

The next week brought a permanent change, though.

"It's time, Princess."

The gruff voice that broke through her numb stupor was easily recognizable and anything but welcome.

"Feel at liberty to sod off, Your Majesty," she responded, staring up at the leaves on the tree above where she sat, not even giving a king the courtesy of meeting his eyes.

"Let's go, Princess," Thomas said more harshly. "Dalitrise can't afford for you to continue wallowing in self-pity. There are things to do, people to help, and a war to win. I can't imagine that such activity is too good for the baby either."

"I will repeat what I just stated, Thomas... Sod. Off. I don't need your advice, nor do I want it." She wanted to be left alone. Couldn't he respect that?

"Do you think you're the only one to feel pain?" Thomas asked, anger seeping through every word. "Do you think you are the only one to be visited by the ghosts of events you couldn't control? Do you think you are alone in paying for you misdeeds, in carrying the hurts of the past?"

She didn't answer. What did it matter? Pain was pain, no matter who felt it.

"You have pain; I don't belittle that," he continued, "but you must learn to work through pain until such a time as that pain achieves a purpose."

"You make less sense the more you talk," Kalysta groaned. "Can you not simply leave me be?"

"No, I can't. You're being selfish and childish, and it's time that someone put a stop to it."

"Surely I didn't hear you right," she snapped, "but I'm going to pretend that you didn't come to my home, bother me in my garden, and call me a selfish child."

"Would you rather I said that I think you're not living up to half your potential and that I'm sick and tired of your acting like a coward, just like every other sodding royal this nation has produced?"

Kalysta stood and swung her arm around to slap him, just as she had in the infirmary months before.

He caught it quickly this time, gripping her wrist tightly so she couldn't escape. "That's it!" he growled. "You still have that anger and passion, so why are you snuffing it beneath tears and woes? This country needs you, this continent needs you!"

"You don't know me!" she cried, pulling on her arm.

"I don't need to know you to tell you that you're ignoring the world around you in your own self-absorbed petulance! Get off your bleeding ass!"

She wrenched on her arm and he finally released it. "Just leave me alone," she hissed, sitting on her bench again.

"That's not going to happen no matter how many times you try to strike me, Princess." His voice, so vehement before, took on his typical sarcastic edge.

She didn't answer. Eventually he would leave if she stopped speaking to him.

"Alright, if that's how it's going to be, then I'll talk and you listen," he sighed. "Everyone has known pain, some perhaps more than others, but no one is unaffected by it. What I'm about to tell you isn't spoken of, for fear of great consequence, but I'm sharing with you out of a gesture of faith. It may come as a surprise to you but I-"

"Prefer men?" Kalysta cut in. "As in, sexually?" She took her gaze from the tree to meet his eyes.

He clearly wasn't used to being surprised, based on his narrowed eyes and frustrated expression. "Well, I- yes. And how did you know?"

"Don't worry, it's nothing glaringly obvious to too many people. Just...certain details of our interactions lined up with things that Z-Sir Malik noticed from his prior visits," she answered, shrugging. The fog of her mind was lifting, though the despair was not.

"Yes, that nosy little jackal," Thomas sighed exasperatedly. "He would see something like that." He was silent for a moment. "I... prefer men, yes. I know things are different here, but when you are raised in Velia, you are trained to see it as a repulsive, undermining to the good of our society. It took years for me not to view it so disapprovingly and even longer to realize it in myself."

"How did you come to that realization?"

"Victor." The King's voice was sad, but tinged with nostalgia. "He was my advisor.

"When I first ascended the throne, I was completely unsure of myself," he said. "There had been a coup that occurred in the kingdom, a rival noble that wished to cut out my father's line and take the throne for himself. His assassins successfully took care of my parents, but found a more capable opponent in me. His attempt failed and his line was eradicated instead. That is the way things work in Velia. I was mourning his early death and being crowned King at the same time.

"I did my best," he sighed. "My best wasn't good enough. I couldn't please the dukes, the people were chafing under my rule. Suddenly, there were those thinking that perhaps my bloodline was unfit to rule after all. My parents had failed by not seeing to the possibility of an uprising and I wasn't doing any better than them with my newfound power. I was in danger of losing everything when Victor stepped forward in the council. He began making suggestions and... those suggestions worked. Everything he said made much more sense and things steadily began to get better. He didn't take over, though I was so inept he could have. He simply helped." Thomas paused for a good bit.

"And what happened with this Victor?" Kalysta prompted. She wasn't sure what to do with this emotionally transparent King. This side of him was completely unfamiliar.

"At first, nothing. When my feelings developed I was too afraid to admit them. He was a decade older than I was and I felt like I was alone with my rebellious thoughts. That was how I viewed them at first, like they were a rebellion. He approached me one evening and confessed that his own feelings and... We kept our feelings a secret, didn't even act on them. But just knowing I wasn't alone, knowing that I could care for a man and he could care for me back was a strong revelation on its own." He went silent again.

"Sir Malik said that your advisor was put on trial, but escaped?" Kalysta pressed him. She was staring at him avidly now, intrigued as to the turn his story had taken.

"He's right, but that's not the entire story," Thomas said, pacing now. "You'll have to know, I don't talk about this at all, so count yourself lucky."

"Yes, I'm so very lucky that you chose to scream at me before sharing your personal life," Kalysta scoffed.

Thomas rolled his eyes, but continued pacing. "As I said, we didn't act on how we felt, but someone must have suspected something. I wasn't careful with my regard of him, I know. He was accused and sent to prison. Later, they found people to come forward and testify that he'd been with other men. It was the worst time of my life. I sat as the judge for his trial and sentenced him, the man I'd come to love, to death. I had no choice, I thought. But there was no way I was going to let him die for helping me. I had my suspicions as to who had accused him and it was a rival of his in my council. The night before he was scheduled to be executed, I spirited him away and arranged for the death of his rival. I thought that would be the end of it. Victor could live in exile in another country and it wouldn't be a problem anymore.

"I received word the next day that he had been killed during the escape. He never made it to safety. He was one of the best fighters I've ever known, but they got him with a poison arrow in the back. Cowardly sacks of shit." He stopped pacing and looked at her. "I sentenced Victor to death and, despite my best efforts, that was where he ended up anyway. I sat on my pedestal and reviled the man I loved. So again, I'll say that I know pain. But I couldn't let my mourning, my pain overcome me again. I grieve for him every day, grieve for the life we couldn't have, but I work through it. Because my people needed me strong. Just as they need you strong."

Kalysta looked into her lap. Her chest ached, for his pain, for her pain, for all the things that had happened in their lives. But that wasn't enough.

"I don't have any more strength to give," she whispered. "I'm done."

"Do you think Louis went to the battle lines because we're winning?" Thomas asked next. "We're not. We're barely holding our own. Part of that reason, in my opinion, is because everyone is too afraid to fight dirty. Murdoch isn't afraid to, and that's why one nation is holding against the might of five others. Elysians are dying. We can't afford to turn away any asset available to us. Louis might have been willing to send you away from the council, but I'm more than willing to bring you back. We need you there."

Kalysta thought it over. She stayed quiet and, for once, Thomas did the same. He was right. No matter how much she hated to admit that fact, even to herself, Thomas was right. She couldn't sit in her gardens anymore. There was more to life than that. And what kind of example would it set for her coming child if she completely withdrew from the world?

"What's the most important strategy for forces that are evenly matched with no side gaining noticeable power over the other?" she asked finally.

"Divide and conquer?"

"No. Cut the head off a snake and the body will flounder," she whispered. She looked up to meet his eyes. "So, how do we cut off the head of Mullingar? How do we kill Murdoch?"


	95. Bait

Louis's POV

Louis wiped the sweat of the summer sun from his brow and watched helplessly as flock after flock of carrion birds descended on the wounded and fallen of the most recent battle. The cries of those still alive rose up through the cacophony of crows and vultures. Murdoch's evils never ceased. Just when Louis thought there was nothing more horrifying about war, the Mad King reared his head and sent out a new order to change Louis's mind.

The most recent order was the vilest of all. Mullingar's archers stood at the edge of the just-abandoned battlefield, bows ready and waiting should anyone approach to collect the wounded and dead. It went against every unspoken rule of war to allow the defilement of soldiers' remains. Usually, each side called a truce as they cared for the aftereffects of a battle, but Murdoch had other plans. No one was allowed to access the battlefield, not even his own men. Those from the resistance's army that had tried were now among the wounded and dead, shot cruelly and without warning by the Mullingan archers.

Murdoch knew how to simultaneously demoralize and incite them.

The Cheshine soldiers, already discontent with the military proceedings, were near riotous at the recent development. Their religion dictated that a person's spirit could only find peace with Ornan through the burning of their fleshly bodies after death. This necessitated burning remains by nightfall on that day. Those unburned after that time were cursed to roam the earth forever as unholy spirits. It was the one thing their wildly-nuanced sects could agree on.

Between this and the disagreements springing up, Louis wasn't sure how much longer their resistance could continue and still hope to win this war. The Velian and Cheshine soldiers were at each other's throats. One would hope they'd had enough of fighting from the Mullingans, but that wasn't the case. Their vastly differing lifestyles made agreement impossible and cordiality rare.

A change needed to come and soon.

Kalysta's POV

_2 months later_

_~October 1651~_

"We need him to leave that castle," Kalysta pointed out, taking a deep breath to combat the pregnancy-induced indigestion.

"Murdoch hasn't stepped foot out of it in many years." Thomas was pacing on the other side of the council chamber, staring at the ground as if it held the answer to their problem. "I doubt he has reason to now either. That brother of his is doing well enough as general and they're successfully holding their own against the rest of us."

"What if we agreed to surrender? He would want to accept that surrender himself, wouldn't he?"

"How would you explain that missive to the councilors?" Thomas scoffed.

"We could just tell them our plan to assassinate him." The look he gave her was enough to have her withdrawing that statement. "Fine, fine, we don't tell them. I just think this is too much for the two of us to plan on our own."

"And it will be even more difficult to plan the assassination of someone who is expecting it, Princess," he added. "If we tell no one then there's no way of this getting out to the wrong ears."

Kalysta sighed and held a hand to her stomach. "This is taking too long! I tire of reading the reports of Murdoch's latest horrific edicts! He needs to be stopped and soon!"

"Then by all means, Princess, go! Take your knife and slay the father as you did the son!" Thomas called, gesturing grandly toward the door. "I'm sure he won't see it coming!"

"You're being cruel," she breathed. He knew what had happened, but that didn't mean he had to bring it up. She wanted that past to stay in the past.

"I'm merely remarking on the absurdity of thinking this can be settled on quickly. It won't be simple to eliminate him or someone would have done it already. We need a good plan and I need you to be fully invested in it or we'll lose any chance we have."

Kalysta held her breath as she felt the movement from her stomach.

"Are you alright, Kalysta?" Thomas asked worriedly when she didn't respond.

"The babe's awfully active today," she said, letting out the breath. "It's still strange." Her voice quavered and she took another deep breath to calm the anxiety that threatened to well up. She didn't think she'd ever be ready for a child. It was too new, more than she could cope with and under the worst circumstances. Her breathing sped and she focused on calming it as Thomas came over to her.

He knelt on one leg next to her and grasped her hand. At this point he was well familiar with her anxiety and how to temper it. "Eh, Princess, what's the fuss? Just breathe a bit. You're going to be fine."

She did, closing her eyes and concentrating on the rise and fall of her chest. It took a while, but he didn't press her. This helped. She'd had enough of people demanding how quickly her healing occurred. Eventually, she opened her eyes again and quirked her mouth in a semblance of a smile. "I suppose I'm still a bit in knots about having this child."

"That's to be expected," Thomas agreed, nodding and standing. "If you weren't then I'd be worried about your mental state."

She scoffed and stood, feeling a bit woozy.

Thomas held out his arm and she took it. He steadied her and led her toward the door. "I think that's enough for today. We can talk more tomorrow and establish something for sure."

"If you think so."

"This deserves the time to be well-thought. Rushing in won't do us any good and may put us in an even worse position. Rest some and we'll talk tomorrow."

"I really hate Murdoch," she whispered, not wanting to echo in the corridor as he led her to her chambers.

"A sentiment I share."

"So many men are dying."

"Well, Louis arranged it so they can collect the dead and wounded again. There's that at least," Thomas offered. "And they're making good headway, gaining some ground in Mullingar. Louis isn't making it easy on Adrian or the Mullingan generals. Honestly, I'm quite surprised at how well the blighter is doing."

"I thought your low opinion was toward Zayn, not Louis."

"Eh, they're both arrogant louts, but I hate Louis a bit less, perhaps."

Kalysta shook her head. "Well, I'm surprised you ever got around to supporting the resistance with your hatred toward everyone involved."

He laughed at that point and then released her arm when they reached her rooms. "Rest well for tomorrow, Princess." He bowed a bit and made his exit.

Kalysta went in and started getting ready for dinner. She was to eat with her family, but she wished she could be anywhere else. The presence of her brother Franklin was usually enough to prevent her father's castigation over everything she'd done, but his snide comments were making her weary. He hypocritically despised her secrecy in meeting with Thomas though he had kept her ignorant to so much in the past. Altogether it made for very uncomfortable meals.

Delia came in from the washroom as Kalysta was undressing. "Have you made any progress in your little meetings?"

"No matter how many times you ask, Delia, I'm not going to tell you what the meetings are regarding."

Delia huffed, but didn't push the matter. "Let's at least make you look presentable for dinner. Did you sweat in your meeting or something? Your dress looks mussed."

"I had one of my anxious fits," Kalysta admitted, "but it wasn't anything too bad."

Delia grabbed the discarded clothing, but stopped in her movements toward the washroom. "Milady, are you sure you're well?"

"I'm fine now, Delia, I promise."

Delia didn't answer. She simply went to the washroom and returned with a thick strip of linen and a new set of undergarments. "If you please, Milady, I'd like you to put this linen in your drawers and get into bed."

"What?"

"Look at your thighs."

Kalysta looked down and saw the lightest trickle of blood. "What's going on?" she breathed. "Is something wrong? Is the baby alright? It was moving earlier!"

"Just take a calm breath, Milady," Delia said soothingly. "Get into bed and I'll fetch Mama Gia."

Kalysta did as she was told, but her heart raced with fear.

\--- --- --- --- --- ---

"Well, Your Highness, it's good we caught this early," Mama Gia said, rinsing her hands in the wash basin. "What did I say about resting and only participating in non-stressful activities?"

"I haven't been doing anything!" Kalysta protested from her bed. "All I've done is sit and lie down! How is that stressful?"

"I'm going to be forthright, Your Highness. The babe is in a precarious situation right now and there's a chance you might lose it if you keep on as you have."

Kalysta swallowed the urge to vomit. "Lose it?"

"Yes. Will you listen to what I have to say now?"

"I have been!" Kalysta cried.

"Lower your voice and stay calm, Princess."

Kalysta inhaled and shook her head. Yelling wouldn't solve anything anyway. "What do you want me to do?"

"You're not to leave that bed," the midwife answered sternly. "You're on permanent bedrest until that baby makes its appearance in the world. Otherwise you're risking its life and your own."

"I can't stay trapped here. That's simply not possible. There's a war going, or haven't you heard? I am needed!"

"And if you die from blood loss then you won't be of much use so, again, I recommend that you don't leave your bed."

"What if I just stop walking?" Kalysta countered. "What if they transported me in one of those wheeled chairs instead?"

Mama Gia flung her arms up in frustration. "I can't forbid you, but do it at your own risk!" She grabbed her supplies, gave one more exasperated huff, and left.

"Milady, you must listen to reason," Delia plead. "Please just stay in bed."

"I suppose it does give me an excuse to stop going to those horribly uncomfortable dinners with my father," Kalysta sighed. "I won't stop going to my meetings with Thomas, though. They're too important."

"No, of course not." Delia heaved a sigh and arranged the pillows behind Kalysta's head for the tenth time in the last hour.

"I'll be careful, I promise."

Her mother came to check on her later that evening. "Are you alright, dear?" she asked, sitting carefully on the edge of the bed. "I have to confess I was worried when you sent word that you were summoning Mama Gia so suddenly. I had some trouble carrying my first, but the idea of my grandchild has me twice as frightened."

"Mama Gia says that I need to rest more, so this room is going to become even stuffier than it already is."

"Oh, it won't be that bad. I'll come keep you company most days if you'd like."

Kalysta almost preferred solitude, but her mother looked so hopeful that she couldn't turn her down. "That'd be lovely, mother, thank you. Perhaps I'll perfect embroidery, at long last."

Her mother laughed. "That will truly be a miracle, but we can at least work at it." She stood, kissed Kalysta's brow, and stepped out with a "Rest well and I'll see you tomorrow." Her exit allowed the entrance of another visitor and this one surprised her.

"Hello, Your Majesty," she said, her tone removing any hint of respect from the words. "To what do I owe this... visit?"

"Are you well?"

Her father's words should have produced a warm feeling in her at his concern, but his voice was unattached, as if he didn't care for the news either way.

"I'm fine, as is the baby," Kalysta replied, "so no need to get your hopes up."

"Yes, I suppose it would be too much to hope that you'd lose a bastard child," he mused.

Kalysta held in a gasp at the cold-blooded remark. Her father had many unfavorable qualities, but this was offensive even for him. "You would wish death upon your future grandchild?" she hissed. "I thought my opinion of you was bottomed out, but I see it can be even lower."

"Is it so wrong that I'd rather you be unable to carry the child of a man you weren't even married to? I'd rather it die than to see you bear an illegitimate." His face was stiff, but his eyes were cold and angry.

"You are repulsive!" Kalysta snapped. "You have no sodding clue who the father of this child is, but you'll still come in here and wish it ill? No matter the father, this child is mine! Get out! Get out now, you abhorrent excuse for a man! I'm not supposed to be stressed, so you'll be leaving, you hateful ass, and not returning!"

"I've had enough of your speaking to me this way!" he roared. "I am your father and the King and I will not stand for this."

He pointed at her threateningly, but she knew he could do nothing.

"A true king wouldn't make deals with a devil." Her words were a hiss. "Now, get the bloody hell out of my rooms or I will expose your stupidity to the nation and have you dethroned. You'd rather see my child lost? Well I'd rather this nation be ruled by Murdoch than to stay in your charge. He'd run it into the gutter far slower than you have. Get. Out."

His eyes were slits of anger, but he knew she wasn't jesting. If the people became aware of what he'd done, he would be forcibly removed from the throne, especially with the most recent Mullingan attacks on the coastline. The people hated Murdoch and Mullingar even more now. If they found out Jonathan had made a deal that fell through anyway, they would revolt and rightly so.

Without a word, he turned and left, slamming the door behind him petulantly.

Kalysta calmed her anger and settled into her plush prison for the evening.

\--- --- --- ---

The next day she didn't leave the room except to meet with Thomas, just as she'd promised Delia. As it was, the bleeding had terrified her. It also made her reevaluate everything about this child. Before this most recent development, she'd despised the idea of this life, an extension of a man she'd so despised, but the minute that life was in jeopardy she was even more scared. It fully settled in her, the idea of losing the growing life in her womb, and she found she couldn't bear the thought. She wanted this child, to hold it, and love it like its father and uncle hadn't been. She needed this child like the air she breathed.

All this almost kept her from meeting with Thomas again, but she hoped that being taken to the meeting room in the wheeled chair would be enough to prevent any problems. It was an embarrassing process and she felt pity again for the time when Zayn had gone through the same. Thinking of him brought the usual conflicting emotions, so she cast that pity aside and thought of the coming talk instead.

"I see you're growing lazier, Princess," Thomas scoffed, crossing his arms as Delia pushed Kalysta into the room and to the table.

Delia hissed under her breath, but she didn't dare contradict a King.

"It seems my baby is in a hazardous position, Thomas," Kalysta responded abruptly. "This is now my method of transportation until my labor is successful."

"Are you well?" Thomas's brow scrunched in concern.

"That remains to be seen." Kalysta turned to Delia. "You can go now. I'll send a servant to fetch you once I'm done."

Delia gave Thomas a narrow-eyed, suspicious look before taking her leave.

"Would you be amenable to sending an offer of parley to Murdoch?" Thomas asked, getting right down to business. "Perhaps if we said we were willing to negotiate with him then he'd emerge from his fortress to treat with us."

"It's worth a try. And asking for a parley doesn't require the approval of the council." Kalysta snorted. "Nor my father's approval, for that matter."

"We can draft that and see if it accomplishes anything. At the very least we can establish where he stands with us. He could respond any number of ways, agreement, refusal, curses, we can't know."

Kalysta sighed. "It's a start. But if he refuses and we create some other excuse to lure him out, won't he begin to grow suspicious?"

Thomas narrowed his eyes, concentrating for a moment. "We'll have to take that risk," he finally said.

They had the offer for negotiations drafted and sent out that day. Kalysta hoped that Mullingan low opinion of women wouldn't affect his answer. There were too many variables for her to factor into this. Add Murdoch's madness and it was a wonder anything was getting accomplished.

A month passed, a month of trashed plans and hopes, and discouragement. They were mostly waiting on the response from Murdoch, for his tone would determine much. Even after their consideration, his reply was worse than they had expected.

Thomas didn't let her see the missive. Apparently the return messenger had been charged to not only carry a message, but a "gift" as well.

"Why would you consider his reply without my presence?" Kalysta spouted angrily the next day when she found out Thomas was keeping the response from her.

"Personally, I thought it might upset your delicate disposition to see Murdoch's idea of a gift," Thomas replied. "You said you're struggling with the carrying of that child and I don't think seeing the severed head and gouged eyes of your messenger would help with that struggle."

"What?" Kalysta gasped. "Surely he wouldn't stoop so..." She shook her head, reminding herself who they were dealing with.

"That's what he did," Thomas confirmed. "He sent a note accompanying it stating simply _'A taste of what waits for you all.'_ "

Kalysta felt sick just thinking about it and she was quite glad that the delivery had been kept from her. "This will never end if we don't stop him. He will destroy his own country and any others in the hopes of winning. Is it vengeance that drives him? Madness? I'm not sure anymore."

Thomas just shook his head silently and started his pacing again.

The action would have been annoying to Kalysta normally, but now the repetition held comfort. "What can we do?" she whispered.

"I have an idea, but I'm not sure how well you'll like it."

"I'll take any option at this point."

Thomas gave a bark of mirthless laughter. "Wait until you hear it before making such broad declarations."

"Be out with it, then."

"He doesn't have an heir anymore. Niall is dead, Zayn is illegitimate and in the wind."

"Yes. And?"

"According to the treaty, your firstborn was supposed to be his heir, the next in line after Niall for the throne of Mullingar."

"I think that treaty was voided the moment we began a war with him," Kalysta snorted.

"But will he see it that way?"

"Get to the point please!"

"Taunt him," Thomas said. "When the child is born, taunt him with the fact that you have his heir, his grandchild, his blood. He won't take that. We could force a meeting with him under the guise of showing him his grandson."

"Absolutely not," Kalysta snapped. "There's no way I would let my child near him. Besides that, what if I have a daughter? I doubt Murdoch would be willing to risk all that for a female grandchild."

"But supposing you do have a boy?"

"What? I'm going to take him to see a murderous, raving lunatic of a King and wave him about? I don't think so!"

"Murdoch would leave his castle to see an heir."

"I don't sodding care!" Kalysta hissed. "The man can sit in his castle and rot for all I care!"

"You'll just let this battle continue indefinitely or until Mullingar is decimated?" Thomas's voice was like a whip cracking.

"I-I don't know!" Kalysta cried. "There has to be another way! I'm not endangering my child!"

"That's my only idea for the moment." Thomas pinched the bridge of his nose between his thumb and forefinger. "Think on it for a bit. We'll meet back up at the end of the week and discuss it and any other options we have."

She didn't want to think about it, not really. The pondering of it over the week left her dismayed, for she didn't have anything else to offer as an idea. She couldn't very well put her child in danger, though, could she? At that moment she wished and prayed that the child would be born a girl. That would keep it safe, for Murdoch would want nothing to do with the child and they could solve the problem of the war without involving her.

It was at times like this that she missed Zayn even more. She wanted to talk over these things with him, for everything made more sense when he was involved. They argued, they drove each other crazy, but that didn't change the fact that she missed him. There was no denying the comfort he brought her and the way he cared for her.

When she blew her nose into a handkerchief and only then realized that she was actually crying. She couldn't count the number of tears she'd lost over the man. Now she was sitting on her bed, crying over him once more.

"Oh, Milady, what's going on?"

Kalysta tried to rein in her emotions, but was wildly unsuccessful. "I didn't think it would be this hard for me," she breathed. "I miss Zayn and I wish we'd never fought, and he hadn't left. I miss him." She put her fingers to her temples. "I understand why he left, I do. But he doesn't need to stay away. If that damned fool would just read the letter he'd know that. Or worse, what if he read the letter and doesn't care. Can he so easily forget our time together?"

"Heartbreak is worse when two stubborn fools are involved," Delia put forth quietly.

"Yes, I'm aware of how foolish he and I have been." Kalysta lay back again and covered her eyes with her hands. "I just wish I'd gone to see him a day sooner."

Delia sighed. "If wishes were fishes the ocean would be overrun."

"I know. Dwelling on the past serves no purpose except to comfort myself with memories." Kalysta sighed and breathed deeply. "I find that I'm angry at him sometimes, even if I understand his actions. I'm frustrated that he won't even respond. He could just say he doesn't want to see me anymore and that would be answer enough. Instead, he chooses this loaded silence where I can't tell if he's still punishing himself or if he's truly just moved on without me. I can't stand not knowing."

"You both have some growing up to do," Delia said. "Give it time and maybe he'll come to his senses."

"Too bad he doesn't have you around him to tell him how much of a fool he is," Kalysta teased as she swiped her cheeks one final time.

"His loss."

\--- --- --- --- --- ---

The end of the week came and Kalysta grudgingly admitted defeat to herself. If the child was born a male, she would have to risk exposing him to Murdoch in order to eliminate the Mad King.

They sat in the council chambers as always, Kalysta in her frustratingly entrapping wheeled chair and Thomas pacing.

"Suppose that I were to agree to the introducing of my child to Murdoch," she ventured carefully. "What's the plan once we have him in front of us?"

"We kill him," Thomas answered like she was a simpleton.

Kalysta rolled her eyes. "Thank you for stating the remarkably obvious. What is the plan to kill him?"

"It would depend on where we meet and whether we want to do long-distance or close-up attack on him. I'd push for the latter. It may be more dangerous, but it will ensure that whatever weapon is used will have a better chance of finding its mark. He'll be dressed out in full armor for any meeting, judging by his level of paranoia thus far. A dagger or knife could find its way between his armor more easily than an arrow." He pondered this thought for a moment before continuing on. "We'll need someone very skilled with a blade."

"Why not use poison on the blade?" Kalysta offered. "That would mean that even a small nick to his skin would be fatal. I've heard that some of the desert creatures of Bradford produce particularly potent venom. Procuring some shouldn't be too difficult either."

Thomas looked at her in surprise. "Sometime I forget how crafty and ruthless you can be. Silly of me at this point."

"I've grown tired of a mad despot deciding how we live." That was all she wished to say on the matter.

"We need someone very good, both with a blade and with appearing innocuous to Murdoch's eyes. If we bring some obvious brute with us he will be twice as cautious."

"I'm still not comfortable having my child within a league of that man," Kalysta emphasized.

Thomas heaved a sigh. "Can you think of any other way to tempt him out of his stronghold?"

"No." Kalysta crossed her arms. "I can't bring my child with me, though. Murdoch would take any chance to get what he wants and hurt me in the process."

"Exactly!" Thomas exclaimed. "He's a slave to his own self-interest. It makes some of his actions easy to predict."

"Really? Then you knew he'd send my messenger back headless and eyeless?"

He looked at her exasperatedly. "Not exactly, but I knew he wouldn't respond well."

"His self-absorption is predictable, but his mental instability counters that," Kalysta clarified.

"Yes, you could put it that way."

Kalysta sat back in the chair, relaxing her posture and back. "This is a lot hinging on this child being a male."

Thomas gave a snort of cynical laughter. He sat in the chair next to hers and leaned back enough to prop his feet up on the table.

"I know you despise my country," Kalysta snapped, swatting at his legs, "but could you at least pretend differently while I'm in the room. Stop putting your feet on the furniture."

He snorted again, but dropped his feet to rest on the floor anyway. "Do you believe in Fate or the gods, Princess?" he asked unexpectedly.

She gave it some thought before responding. "I believe in something greater than people, but I do not pretend to know what form it takes." This thought brought a snort of derision from her too. "I must believe something is puppeteering the mess of this last year," she continued. "There's no other way to look at it."

Thomas nodded introspectively. "I believe that what needs to happen will happen, regardless of who it happens to."

"I thought I had a jaded view of life, but I have nothing compared to the futility endorsed in that statement," Kalysta scoffed. Her stomach rumbled then, but she ignored it. Hunger could wait. Thomas wouldn't have brought this up if it didn't pertain to their most pressing conundrum.

"Quite the contrary, actually," he countered. "With that ideal in mind, you simply look at what needs to change in the world, work toward it, and know that whatever higher being there is will be working toward the same."

Kalysta scoffed again. "I take back my earlier position. You're incredibly idealistic if you believe all of that."

Thomas simply shrugged off her comment. "Regardless, I believe that what needs to happen will happen. Murdoch needs to be eliminate and our plan requires you to have a son."

"You keep believing then," Kalysta offered. "I have to admit, though, that I'm gripped by the desire for this child to be a girl, for it will infuriate Murdoch greatly. He'll be without an heir and I doubt he is capable of siring another. He's old enough that his seed has probably dried up, even if Rowen was willing to help him with the task." She closed her eyes. "Just imagine the horror he would face as his legacy disintegrated. I confess it's an appealing idea."

"You are a hard woman." His words were an admonishment, but his tone was approving.

"I am what I need to be," Kalysta said snidely. "Whoever, whatever, is out there has taken much from me. Apparently my callousness is needed for what is to come."

Thomas stood then and moved to push the wheeled chair. "Come, Princess. Enough of this for now. I didn't miss the rumbling from your body earlier, though I'm unsure whether it was your stomach demanding food or the babe protesting at the idea of being used as bait."

"Both, undoubtedly."

"Well I know the solution to one of those problems."

She dined alone in her room and hated it. The walls felt oppressive after so long. Though her bleeding since the first incident had been minimal, Mama Gia hadn't lifted her edict of low stress and limited movement. Kalysta wanted this baby born sooner than later. She was growing tired of the weight on her abdomen and the resurging need to relieve herself so frequently. Luckily, Delia didn't complain about how many times she had to help Kalysta go to the bathroom.

As time passed the child made more movement and she grew excited for the idea of the child itself. She found herself talking to it quietly when she was alone, explaining that she wouldn't hold it responsible for the crimes of its father. No child deserved that, this one least of all. The babe moved more when she spoke and even this limited form of communication was dear to her. She dreamed of names for the baby, several for whichever gender the babe turned out to be.

Her mother commented on the change in her demeanor when she was visiting in the evenings, sewing or simply keeping Kalysta company. "You don't have such a frown anymore at the subject of your coming little one," she pointed out. "Have you finally accepted it?"

Kalysta tried to explain the change in her mind, but couldn't voice it in words. Thankfully, her mother seemed to understand anyway.

Some evenings her mother brought Franklin with her to visit and he kept Kalysta entertained with stories of his lessons and his mishaps riding horses. He was accident-prone despite his intense love for the creatures and he admitted to losing his balance and almost falling more often than not. Kalysta hadn't realized how much she missed this until she was able to connect with her precious little brother again. He talked endlessly and she watched him growing into a compassionate and diligent Prince. He gave her hope for her own child, if it turned out to be a boy, hope that love could keep her child from falling under the supposed curse of Murdoch's line.

Another month passed and Thomas presented his solution for their problem to assassination complications. His solution took the form of a woman that he brought to their meeting.

Delia wheeled Kalysta into the council chambers and left, but not before giving both Thomas and the newcomer suspicious looks.

Thomas's companion was a woman, clearly Velian from her build and tanned skin, perhaps 35 years in age. Though she wore a dress it looked uncomfortable on her, as if she were more used to pants and loose shirts. Her blonde hair was cropped at her chin, framing her face and giving her some femininity to go with the muscled arms that were apparent through the fabric of the dress.

"Princess, I'd like you to meet a subject of mine, Varale," Thomas opened.

The woman bowed appropriately, a fist over her heart. "It's an honor, Your Highness."

"It's a pleasure, Varale. What role do you play here?"

Varale looked to Thomas expectantly.

"She is one of my finest assassins," Thomas put forth carefully. "And she is entirely trustworthy. She's my cousin." His small smile shared that they were close enough to back up his words.

Kalysta felt a smile steal over her face. "What a fantastic idea," she breathed. "Murdoch has such a low opinion of women that he wouldn't dream of one being a danger to him." She stopped and gave Thomas a searching look. "How often do you have cause for assassination in Velia?"

"The class system is a little more complicated than you are probably privy to." Thomas shrugged. "Standing is power-based instead of money-based."

Kalysta ran a thumb over her lip as she pondered the implications of a woman being the one to kill Murdoch. "I love the poetry of this," she admitted. "The one to bring down the Mad King will be of those he has been oppressing for longer than our nation."

"She can join us in our meeting with him as your attendant if you choose."

"How often do your wear dresses?" Kalysta asked Varale wryly.

The assassin made a face. "Not when I can help it. Perhaps every other month."

"Even Murdoch is going to see through that," Kalysta protested. "You need to look like an attendant. I thought you were going to find someone innocuous!" she directed at Thomas. "She looks like a cobra stuffed into a corset."

Thomas shrugged. "She can learn. We still have a bit of time before that babe emerges."

Kalysta looked down at her swollen stomach and sighed. "It can't come soon enough. Mama Gia says another four weeks, but I don't think my back will survive that long."

Varale chuckled. "My first was like that. I got used to it by my third."

Kalysta rubbed her stomach carefully and smiled. "I think this one will be enough for me. It's been such a dramatic pregnancy that I don't know if I want another ever."

Thomas cleared his throat. "If you'll excuse my interruption of this woman bonding-time, we should discuss how this is going to go. Where will we meet with Murdoch? What's the best method for all of this to happen?"

"If you're confident in her abilities then all we need to do is distract him while he's in front of us and Varale can make her move."

"Yes, I'm sure it will be that simple," Thomas replied with a snide voice.

"We'll need to control how many people he brings with him," Kalysta continued, ignoring his comment.

"If he brings Adrian then I see no reason why we shouldn't eliminate both threats."

Kalysta shook her head quickly. "Do you want to send Mullingar into a civil war right after this? That's what is going to happen if you eliminate the entire Royal Family. None of Adrian's children are of age since the death of his firstborn, Hayden." Thomas quirked an eyebrow at her at the last part, but she ignored that too. "I won't cause more problems for that country. They've already lived under that horrid man for this long."

Thomas sighed. "Very well, but I still think it would be better to put a different family in power."

"We don't have time to ensure a good family moves up to the throne. Adrian seems like he would do well away from Murdoch's influence."

"Yes, I'm sure the general carrying out all Murdoch's heinous orders would make a great King." Thomas shook his head, but gestured in acquiescence. "You've had more dealings with him, so I'll trust your judgment, but I'm not comfortable with this."

"And I'm not comfortable killing a man who is simply following the orders of his ruler, brother or not."

Thomas finally sat and Varale joined him. "We've got much to do," he said. "Let's get down to it."

They talked through the day, stopping briefly to order food brought to the council chambers. Kalysta grew weary, but continued anyway. Their progress made her want to push through. They were finally getting somewhere.

Delia came to fetch her when the sun started setting. "Milady, Mama Gia expressly told me to have you in bed before nightfall," she explained, coming around to push her out of the room.

"Yes, you're right," Kalysta sighed. "We'll start this again tomorrow. Varale, I'm glad we have your services."

Delia wheeled her out. "Who is that woman?" she asked. "And what services is she providing?"

"You'll know soon enough, Delia. It's almost time." Kalysta smoothed a hand over her stomach carefully.

\--- --- --- --- --- --- ---

Planning continued for the next few weeks, despite Delia's protests that "Milady" was over-working herself. Kalysta was starting to feel false contractions, which Mama Gia professed were the indication that labor would come soon. She kept all this in the back of her mind as she worked with Thomas and Varale, pouring over the notes and plans they'd made.

Kalysta had many questions about Varale's skill and there was much to consider as to where would be best to meet Murdoch. They needed an area where it would benefit them strategically, somewhere about midway between the two Royal Cities. The border between the countries was so blurred with the war that it would necessitate a neutral area determined ahead of time.

"I can send the message with where to meet," Kalysta said. "Murdoch won't be able to resist once I offer a chance to meet his grandchild. Assuming it's a boy, of course."

Thomas just shrugged and Varale didn't voice any concerns on the front either. Kalysta wasn't sure where that came from, but she wasn't going to ask.

Maps were brought in and an area was decided upon.

"It's on the outskirts of one of the abandoned villages inside Elysium's border," Thomas said, pointing. "There's a clearing in this group of trees and that will be perfect. Everyone will be seen, there's little chance of an ambush on their end, and we can make a quick getaway if necessary."

"We have the armies close by, of course," Kalysta mused, "and we can have a signal ready for if anything goes wrong." She was even more terrified for her child at this point, though they were already deep into planning. It seemed such a terrible thing to use her babe as bait, but desperate times called for desperate measures and with the mounting casualties for both armies, this was definitely a desperate time.

The second week in January brought a shock. In the process of moving from her bed to the wheeled chair, Kalysta's waters released, a full week earlier than Mama Gia had predicted. At first, Kalysta was terrified that the baby would be harmed if born too early, but between Delia, her mother, and Mama Gia, she was calmed down.

Kalysta hadn't wanted to have the child in her bed, but Mama Gia refused to move her once the contractions had started.

The labor was long. Her mother assured her that this was normal with a first child, but that didn't help Kalysta with the incredible pain. The agony of monthly cramps were doubled in intensity and she simply wanted it to be over. She thought she would perish before Mama Gia finally told her to push. Then the pain was more. Sweat, pain, exhaustion.

But upon the first newborn cry Kalysta almost forgot the pain. The squalling was almost immediate as Mama Gia examined the babe carefully for any signs of defect or illness.

"You've a little man-child," Mama Gia crooned, holding up the child for Kalysta to see through her sweat-blurred eyes.

The sight was a lovely one, but Kalysta couldn't stay alert. She closed her eyes to rest until the midwife had cleaned the babe and put him in her arms. He wasn't truly real to her until that moment. Almost a day's worth of labor and Kalysta held her son, so small, so fragile, so precious. Despite his vicious protests and scrunched up face, Kalysta stared at him and couldn't remember anyone looking so lovely.

There was but a twinge of sadness because she'd retained the pathetic, unrealistic hope that the child would be Zayn's, even after everything that had happened between them. It was clear that this wasn't the case, though. As the ruddy complexion of travail faded, her son's skin lightened and she knew it would be pale as fresh snow to go along with his father's chin cleft. The little dent in his chin should have brought a hash of bad memories, but she couldn't even connect that horrible past with the marvelous child she held in her arms. And his being a boy meant they would have to go through with all their plans to use him as bait.

Tears fell fast down her cheeks, tears of sadness and joy and relief. The span of his forehead was smooth beneath her fingertips and the brown fluffs of hair on the crown were even more so. His mouth was wide with wailing, and he shook a fist that had sprung free of its blanket entrapment.

"He wants fed, Princess," Mama Gia prompted. "Shall I fetch a wet nurse?"

Kalysta looked down at her squalling son and shook her head. "No," she whispered. "I won't have there be a reason for distance between us."

Mama Gia didn't press further. She simply showed Kalysta the best way to nurse him. The wailing ceased immediately when he latched except for a few noises as he settled in for his meal. Kalysta hadn't realized it before, but some pain was worth it, so very worth it.

"Does my little grandson have a name?" her mother asked, stepping over to the bed and brushing a hand gently over the boy's head.

Kalysta met her gaze.

Her mother's eyes were swimming with proud tears.

"His name is Finley," Kalysta announced, brushing a knuckle along his brow. "Finley Garrett Dubhain."

"That's a lovely name," Delia voiced, coming over to stand next to the Queen. She too had tears in her eyes, but the smile across her face left no confusion as to which emotion prompted those tears.

Mama Gia pulled Kalysta's mother to the side and held a quiet conversation with her. "The babe appears healthy, but I want to check in regularly to ensure that the Princess is adjusting well and able to feed the baby adequately. She's a small lass, so she might not have enough..."

Kalysta's attention faded as her eyes blinked shut. Finley continued his feeding as she drifted off.

\--- --- --- --- ---

It felt like only a few moments before Kalysta was shaken awake. She looked about her with a tingle of fear. Her stomach was less and Finley wasn't near her.

"Delia," she called hoarsely.

"The little Prince is right here, Milady, don't you worry," Delia said, side-stepping from her position next to the bed so that Kalysta could see the baby in her arms. "He's going to need feeding now. Are you able to handle it?"

"Whatever he needs," Kalysta replied quickly. She was eager to hold her son again. The concept of being a mother was somehow new and exciting and frightening to her once more.

Delia set Finley in her arms and stepped back.

It took Kalysta a bit of turning and adjusting to get him in the posture that Mama Gia had showed her yesterday, but when she did, he was more than ready to eat again. He didn't even open his eyes. Kalysta wanted to see his eyes, but figured he would open them when he was ready.

"How long did I sleep?" she asked.

"Just an hour or so. Having a child is a difficult thing. They need feeding about every hour here at the start and they'll let you if you run late on that."

"Based on how loud he was, I'm sure that's true," Kalysta mused. She was exhausted still, but she couldn't get enough of looking at her son. His skin was filling out from the shriveled appearance that travail had wrought and she loved the smoothness of it.

She allowed herself the chance to connect with him for a while longer, but there was something that needed doing.

"Delia, would you bring me a lap desk, a quill and paper?"

"Whatever for?"

"Please?"

Delia sighed, but did as requested.

Kalysta held the quill carefully and penned a simple missive. A date, a time, a place and the simple words: _'I have your grandson. Would you care to see him?'_


	96. Ubia and Ill Preparation

_January 29th, 1652 (Two weeks later)_

Zayn's POV

Zayn sat at the desk in his cabin, pretending to put notes into his log. Really, he was torturing himself. Her letter sat on the opposite side of the desk, pulling him in and repelling him at once.

"Captain! Oy! You're gonna wanna see this!" Mahir's voice was accompanied by a few raps against the door.

Zayn grumbled, but got up to exit the cabin. "What's the problem?" he asked, shutting the door behind him.

"You said we wouldn't encounter anyone this far out to sea." Mahir led him to portside and held out the telescope. "So what's that one doing farther out than us?"

Zayn put the telescope to his eye and took in the sight. Just over the horizon was a fully-armed, three-masted monstrosity of a ship. "She's coming in closer," Zayn murmured, "give me a moment." He stared until the ship came close enough for the words on the front end of the starboard side to become discernible. Upon reading them, he swore. "Blood of the gods, it's the _Eminence_." He couldn't believe his eyes. His father had gotten that old ship sea-worthy once more, a relic of the Five-Year war cutting the waves once again. "Ready the men! Prepare for battle!" He strode up to the top deck and took over the wheel as Shoulo rang the alarm bell.

"Captain!" Mahir exclaimed. "The _Eminence_? Are you sure?"

"See for yourself." Zayn handed the telescope back. "Notice their men making full sail? They're coming about this way, and I doubt it's for any good reason."

He couldn't believe it. Of all the horrible luck. As if things weren't bad enough in this war. And what was the _Eminence_ doing so far out? It seemed to be returning to Mullingar, skirting the blockade, not leaving. Where was it returning from that had taken it so far out?

He took the telescope from Mahir and got a better look at the movement of the _Eminence_. She was a glorious ship for sure, but Zayn couldn't admire the fine structure. He was too focused on the battle-equipments. Not only did she have double the number of canons the _Partheos_ carried, her ram-bow would split his beloved ship in two if he didn't maneuver quickly enough. It wasn't difficult to see the protuberance on the bow as the ship crested a wave.

His heart sank. The usual navigation he relied on for beating other ships wouldn't be possible while the _Partheos_ was weighted down with Cheshine wheat and gold. He should have just stayed a messenger ship instead of letting that cursed harbormaster persuade him to carry a load with his missives.

"Get us turned about!" he bellowed! "That girl has a ram-bow! We can't let them broadside us!"

He took the wheel, knowing they would need all the luck and skill available.

"Is there any way we can outrun them?" Mahir asked uneasily.

"You know better than that," Zayn replied, marking their slow movement. "Look at her sails, half again the size of ours. The best we can hope is to outmaneuver them. The Eminence is a built for heavier seas so perhaps she won't be able to cut like us. She's bulky." Really, their only hope existed if they weren't carrying tons of gold.

At that thought: "Start emptying the hold!" he shouted.

"Captain?!"

"Pitch it or we die!" Zayn yelled. "Get the crates overboard and ready the canons!"

Mahir repeated the order and assigned men the task. It took four men on each crate to toss the gold. And it wasn't enough. The _Eminence_ was bearing down on them and she would hit port stern.

"Are those canons loaded?!"

"Aye, Captain!" came the call.

"Fire! Fire midship canons!"

"Captain, there's no chance we'll hit it!" Mahir protested.

"FIRE!" he bellowed. It was a hopeless cause, but he couldn't give up.

Just as Mahir had said, the canons sprayed water up on either side of the advancing ship.

Zayn swore again, watching as the _Eminence_ picked up speed. "Brace for impact!" he yelled. Even without the gold, the _Partheos_ wasn't going to move in time. His first love was doomed as certainly as his second.

The letter! It was still in his quarters! He had no time to retrieve it. He would never know what Kalysta had to say.

It was this thought that held in his mind as the ramming spike on the _Eminence_ ripped into the hull of the _Partheos_.

\--- --- --- --- --- --- ---

Zayn was brought to by a slap to the face. He turned on his side and coughed up a minimal amount of water.

"I don't believe my lucky eyes," a voice gasped. "We've captured the favorite Royal bastard. To think, I almost let you drown! You would have, too, if it weren't for Sizwe here."

Zayn sat up and would have wiped his eyes to clear them of the saltwater, but his hands were bound tightly behind his back. "You don't sounds familiar," he quipped blindly, "so you must not be important."

Another blow laid him flat on the deck once more.

"Silence!" the voice hissed.

"No!" another voice protested. "You do not strike an unarmed prisoner." This voice was deeper and carried an accent that Zayn not only recognized, but dreaded.

"Ubian?" Zayn called to the second speaker. He blinked furiously to clear his vision.

"I am," the deep voice rumbled.

Eventually, Zayn's eyes stopped watering enough for him to sit up again and see the predicament he was in.

A Mullingan naval officer stood before him, alongside a man the likes of which Zayn hoped he would never see again. The second man, owner of the deeper voice, was tall, broad, and richly dressed, but that was not what intimidated Zayn. The man's skin was so dark that even Zayn would look pale beside him. No one in Dalitrise had such a complexion.

"There are not many who would know my origin simply by hearing my voice," the Ubian pointed out, moving to crouch next to Zayn. "Who are you? This man calls you Royal, but treats you like a stray dog."

Zayn wished he could avoid the question altogether, but someone else would just tell the man if he didn't. "I am Zayn Malik, son of Murdoch."

"Ah, the disavowed one. I am Sizwe of Asmye in Ubia," the man offered in introduction. "You are welcome in the home of Zuberi... or, you would be if you weren't a prisoner." He frowned and stood back to his immense height.

"Yes, formality falls flat in such times, doesn't it?" Zayn stretched his neck, trying to relieve the tension headache already building. "I would offer a welcome to my home, but since I don't have one it would be even less sincere than yours."

"You have not explained how you know of me and my people," Sizwe prompted. He crossed his arms, looking more formidable as he towered over Zayn.

"I met Nnamdi of Chisomo about four years past," Zayn answered, watching the Ubian's face for a reaction.

Just as he'd expected, Sizwe's eyes narrowed in anger. Anyone who knew Nnamdi would likely have the same reaction. Even Zayn's limited interaction with the man had left an indelible impression.

"You need not worry about Nnamdi," Sizwe growled. "His assault of the seas has since been halted and he is imprisoned. I can assure you that he does not represent the countries in Ubia as a whole. He is but one fanatic, brought to heel."

"I wouldn't have escaped the encounter if he hadn't underestimated my ship." A grip of alarm seized Zayn as he said those words. "The _Partheos_ ," he whispered. "You destroyed my ship!"

"Well, bastard, we have strict orders to remain unseen or eliminate those who do see us," the Mullingan naval officer answered loftily.

Zayn took a closer look at him, but there was still no spark of recognition. "Like I said, I don't know you, so you must not be important."

The man raised his arm as if to strike Zayn again, but lowered it after a sidelong glance at Sizwe. "I am Naval Commander Marius Burke of His Majesty King Murdoch's Royal Navy." He lifted his nose, attempting a grand demeanor, but beside Sizwe he simply looked like a preening pigeon. When this didn't seem to impress Zayn, the man sneered and stepped toward Zayn. He reached out and pulled the scarf from around Zayn's neck, tilting Zayn's head backward to get a better look at the ropy, keloid scars there. "And it looks like all the rumors are true about you. Both a bastard and a traitor, eh? His Majesty will be glad to have you back, though he did say dead or alive. Don't test my restraint."

"What are you doing so close to the blockade, Commander Burke?" Zayn asked, changing the subject. He rolled his shoulders in their sockets to get the blood flowing in his arms again. "For someone trying to avoid being seen, you put yourself at great risk of just that."

"Why, charting the best path from Asmye to Mullingar, of course," Burke grinned viciously. "There is going to be much travel here in the coming weeks."

The insinuation was not lost to Zayn. "You bring a fanatic to heel only to turn around and provide assistance to a madman, simply because he is from a different continent?" He addressed this to Sizwe.

"Madman?" was the Ubian's reply. "What proof is there of that?"

Zayn gave a wheezing laugh at this. "You're so quick to throw your lot in with someone you don't even know."

Sizwe narrowed his eyes severely. "I am a soldier. I do as I am told."

"If that makes you feel better, to deny responsibility for your actions, feel free."

"Now I know why the Commander wishes to strike you often," the Ubian said ruefully, clenching his hands and loosening them. "You would try even the most patient of men."

"What has he promised you?" Zayn asked. "What has Murdoch promised your rulers? Land? A stronghold in Dalitrise once he's annihilated the other nations?"

"None of the other Ubian nations has a port in Dalitrise." Sizwe speaking quietly was still a rumble of thunder. "We would be the first and Asmye would gain much power across the seas. There will be no land taken, simply a port. King Murdoch has offered Westtown."

Zayn's barking laugh was mirthless. "For the love of the bloody gods, Sizwe, you really have no idea the mess you've put yourself in, do you?"

"If you continue speaking so to me, I will take back my earlier assertion against violence toward unarmed prisoners," the man warned, his voice deepening with anger.

Zayn stood laboriously, barely gaining his footing. His legs were stiff and painful. Even worse was the fact that Sizwe was at least head and shoulders taller than he, making him feel like a small child in comparison. "I've faced worse at the hands of my family, as the Commander so generously pointed out."

"I don't have the time to bandy words with a traitor," Sizwe dismissed, stepping away. Burke sniffed and made to follow him.

This gave Zayn the opportunity he'd been waiting for and he wouldn't squander their momentary lack of attention. He hurtled to the side and made an ungainly leap overboard, plunging headfirst into the water. The force knocked the air out of his lungs, but he stayed under, determined to escape them. Rather than swim toward where he knew the blockade was, he paddled under the ship and headed in the direction they would never expect him to go: out to sea. He made it about half a boats length from the Eminence before he was forced to surface for air. As it was, he sucked in a breath and immediately dove down again, hoping they hadn't caught a glimpse of him.

He was quite a ways out before he finally turned around to look back at the ship. They were already moving, back toward land, just as he'd hoped. He took the moment of respite to loop his bound arms under his body and to the front. This would make it easier to swim to the ships of the blockade. Next he grabbed a drifting piece of wood to provide floatation. Wrecked and sunk, his ship was reaching beyond the watery grave to help save him one last time.

\--- --- --- --- --- --- ---

_February 1st, 1652_

Kalysta's POV

"We should have left by now," Thomas complained, "and you should have consulted me before determining a time for the meeting."

They were seated in the council chamber, going over their plans yet another time.

Kalysta scoffed. "We'll be there in plenty of time. Murdoch will wait if he must. But I don't think it will take us as long as you think to reach the meeting place."

"You seem sure of this. We haven't even received word back from him confirming that he'll be there."

A knock sounded at the door and a messenger stepped in quickly.

"I bring word for King Thomas," the man said, holding out a letter.

Thomas took the letter and ripped it open. "It's from Malik," he mumbled. "He writes 'Take care. Ubia real and assisting Murdoch. Troops to come from the west, skirting blockade. Look for smaller ships and men with skin much darker than mine'."

"Ubia real?" Kalysta gasped. "How is that possible?"

"Stories, even legends, always hold a grain of truth." Thomas crumpled the letter and pounded his fist against the table. "Murdoch! That bloody sneaking bastard! He's getting more help. He knows he can't win."

"Why didn't Sir Malik bring this himself?" Kalysta asked, turning to the messenger.

"I'm a messenger aboard _Briarbow_ and we pulled him from the water there at the blockade," the messenger explained. "He was in bad shape, said they'd sunk his ship and he barely made it out alive."

"Were there any other survivors of the _Partheos_?" Thomas asked intensely. "Tell me, man! Did anyone else get pulled out of the water?"

"I-I'm not sure, Your Majesty." The messenger was stammering in fright, for good reason. Thomas was incredibly intimidating, even without the horrific look on his face. "I left the moment Sir Malik was able scribe this to you. There could have been more."

"Thank you," Kalysta said quickly. "You can go."

The messenger left in a rush, no doubt determined to get away before Thomas yelled at him for some reason.

Thomas' face was thunderous. "I've got t- I've got to go to the blockade," he announced, standing abruptly. "I'll return as soon as I can, but I might not make it back for the meeting. I'm sorry."

He headed toward the door, but Kalysta intercepted him.

"We don't have the time for this, Thomas!" she snapped, grabbing his arm.

"I won't be long," came his grumbling lie as he shrugged out of her hand.

"What do you hope to accomplish?" she whispered. She grabbed his arm again and turned him around. "Who are you worried about? Are you going to ask for him by name? And what will you do when you find him?" He avoided her gaze, but she kept at it, moving to catch his eyes anyway. "I need you, Thomas. I need you here. I need you invested in the matter at hand."

He shook her off again and strode across to the other side of the room, away from the door. "I bloody hate this," he admitted. His palm smoothed over his beard.

"I'm sorry." She watched him carefully, ready to stop him before he tried leaving again. "It's Mahir, isn't it?"

He looked at her with a wry irritation. "Have I been that obvious again?"

"There was a distinct look between you two, that's all," she placated him. "When have the two of you had time to be anything more than a possibility?"

"He brought the message from Malik a while back about the Mullingan navy being marshalled." His clenched fists and bowed shoulders displayed the depth of his consternation. "We... kept company for a bit until he had to return to the _Partheos_." His hands now smoothed down the legs of his pants as if wiping away sweat.

"How did I not know about this?" Kalysta laughed.

"You've been preoccupied and we were more than discreet. More discreet than you and Malik, I'll add"

Kalysta rolled her eyes, but didn't rise to the bait. "I'll send word asking after the men of the _Partheos_ and I'll mention Mahir by name. We'll know after we come back from the meeting. Z-Zayn made it to safety, so I'm sure he brought Mahir with him."

Thomas sighed. "We should be halfway to that meeting, not leaving tomorrow."

"Stop," Kalysta ordered. "We have our plan and Louis will be where he said."

"I think it's time we turned in, then." Thomas said the words, but didn't move. "You may have a babe that keeps you from getting good rest, but I intend on sleeping all I can before the bumpy trip in our carriage in the morning."

"I don't think I could sleep if I tried." Kalysta took a deep breath. "There's too much going to happen."

Thomas gave her a small half-smile. "This time next week we'll be shed of the Mad King. You'll be back here with your little prince. Think of that and get as much rest as the bugger allows you to."

"I still wish I didn't have to bring him," Kalysta said worriedly.

"You could always leave him here, mess up our plans for these past months," was Thomas's acerbic reply. "Perhaps he'll even take another's milk while you're gone."

"Oh, put a gag in it. Just because it has to be done doesn't mean I need to be comfortable with it."

"This newest development with Ubia certainly strengthens the fact that Murdoch needs to be eliminated quickly."

"What will we do with the Ubians?" Kalysta breathed. She still couldn't imagine it. Back when she'd dreamed of running off with Zayn, she'd fantasized about other continents, but it was almost a joke. There hadn't been any real confirmation of other lands being close enough to reach.

"That's another problem we'll have to deal with when we face it. There's not much we can do at this point."

"Does this ever stop?" She scrubbed her face wearily. "I can't even solve one crisis before another reveals itself."

"If you ever manage to solve all your crises, let me know your secrets," Thomas snorted.

\--- --- --- --- --- --- --- --- ---

_February 3rd, 1652_

"Milady, I still think it would be best if you rode in the carriage," Delia offered for the tenth time that day. "You're going to catch your death out here. It's unseemly for you to be riding a horse and you're too exposed."

The cold wind almost froze the back of her to the bone, but Kalysta didn't care because Finley was covered and warm in front of her. "This is the first time he's slept properly the whole trip," she yawned, displaying how difficult his sleep complications had been on her. She carefully adjusted how he was positioned in the sling around her. "That jostling carriage will set him to screaming and I'd like to keep this peace and quiet for just a bit longer. Leave Thomas to be tossed about in there; I'd much rather have the fresh air, however cold it may be."

Delia huffed in disapproval, but didn't voice another objection after that.

Varale rode on her horse just behind Kalysta as was proper for a lady's maid. She looked the part much more now, having found a better-fitting dress and received some instruction in deportment from Delia. They had much more hope of her being dismissed in Murdoch's eyes.

It was going to be another day or so before they reached their destination and Kalysta could feel her tension growing as they neared. The long string of troops stretching before and after her did nothing to calm her nerves. She was terrified to face Murdoch again and she couldn't help the dread that all their carefully constructed plans would unravel as soon as she faced him.

Nothing else mattered beside keeping her son and her people safe. As always, she would do what needed to be done, but she hoped this would be the last demon she fought. And what was another nightmare? The horrific memories of Hayden and Niall already visited her in her dreams. Murdoch wouldn't be much different.

She tightened her arm around Finley and set her chin.

\--- --- --- --- --- --- --- --- ---

_February 5th, 1652_

"You had better take good care of him," Kalysta warned.

They were standing in a tent about half a day's march from where she was to meet Murdoch, and still behind Elysian lines. Though Finley would be safer out of Murdoch's sight, she couldn't feel the same way about his being out of her sight as well.

"He's in good hands, Kalysta," Louis promised. "We'll keep him safe." He beckoned with his arms.

"Of course we will," Delia added. "Mr. Finn will be just fine with us."

"I-alright." Kalysta was agreeing, but she still held onto him, reluctant to turn him over. Her dread wouldn't shake. What if something happened to her? What if something happened to Finley? Was this the last time she would hold him?

Before she could work herself into a frenzy of worry, she kissed his smooth cheek, and passed him to Delia. "I'll be back as soon as I can," she promised. "Have everyone keep eyes out and no one is to even see him or be allowed in the tent. Just the two of you until I return."

Louis simply nodded.

"You're losing daylight, Milady," Delia prompted. "You need to get going."

Kalysta exited the tent and was joined in her walk by Thomas and Varale.

"Are you alright, Princess?" he asked quietly, sounding uncharacteristically sincere, as they climbed into the carriage.

"I feel I could be sick." Her stomach lurched to go with her words.

"It'll all be over soon," he promised, closing them into the carriage. "Soon."

The trip was both longer and shorter than she could have wished, and neither of her compatriots talked to fill the horrible silence. They didn't look nervous, but looked just as reluctant to open their mouths as she was.

A glimpse outside showed they were entering the copse of trees that surrounded the clearing of the meeting. She had the urge to run as well as throw up. Though she felt sicker the farther they traveled, she wished the journey was longer so she had more time to steel herself. There was nothing for it. The trees were thinning and already she could see the clearing through the bare branches.

They passed into the clearing and Kalysta could hear her heartbeat in her ears now. Pulling the drapes aside for an easier view, she saw Murdoch already waiting and flanked by about ten guards. Each of those guards was fully armored and armed. The King was bulkier than when she'd last seen him, bulkier than could be blamed on an ordinary winter coat. She doubted that he'd gained either weight or muscle, either.

"He's got extra padding, just as we expected," Kalysta murmured as the carriage halted. "Will that be a problem?" This last was directed specifically at Varale.

"Would I be a worthy assassin if it was?" the woman countered.

"Varale will take care of it," came Thomas' immediate reassurance.

"This ends today." Kalysta took several deep breaths, puffing out theair in white clouds. Then she opened the door to the carriage and stepped out.


	97. A King's Lot

Murdoch stood tall, impassive, and cold, though it had nothing to do with the temperature. And his face hardened further when she had fully stepped from the carriage, no doubt due to the fact that she didn't have Finley with her. His anger made her tremble and she found herself wanting to revert back to the manner she had adopted when she'd first met him, timid and diffident. This was folly, and she knew it, but her fear stayed with her, even as her guards hemmed her in with Thomas and Varale.

"Princess!" he called."It seems you've forgotten the most important detail of our meeting! Where is my grandson? Where is my heir?" He held his arms aloft, looking about as if Finley would suddenly appear.

She wished she could read what was going through his twisted mind. Was he planning a double-cross like her? Would he try to have her eliminated now that she'd borne Niall's son?

"Murdoch," she greeted informally. She stopped, leaving several spans between their groups.

His eyes narrowed at her slight in not giving him proper address, but he didn't say anything.

"I haven't forgotten anything," she corrected, providing further insult. "My son is back with the army because I wished to speak with you first, and I couldn't have you distracted."

"There is no purpose in our meeting if he isn't here." He scoffed and turned, gesturing for his guards to follow.

What? He was leaving?

"Wait!" Kalysta called out desperately. "Did I say you wouldn't see him at all?"

Murdoch stopped, just as she'd hoped, and looked at her, but his expression was even darker. "My son is dead and I have a war to win, so if you don't have my heir here to meet me then I'm not staying to waste my time."

"We know of the Ubians," Kalysta called. This definitely made Murdoch pause. She wasn't supposed to know, that was for sure, and his face said there would be people dying horrifically when he discovered how the news had spread.

"What of it?" He faced her fully. "If you know of them then you know there's nothing you can do to stop them." His grin was feral and held no actual mirth.

"Is there no chance to speak civilly?" Her voice was careful.

"You wish to speak?" he mocked. "Then you can tell me exactly how my son perished less than two weeks after being married. All of the reports on the subject have been unsatisfactorily... vague. Do enlighten me." His voice ended in a growl.

She knew her affect was plain, giving nothing away, but her silence was laden with enough indication that it didn't matter how good an actor she was.

"As I thought." His voice was a vicious hiss. "Bring my heir tomorrow at the same time. This meeting is over."

"He is not your heir!" she denounced, her anger rearing up. "He is mine, a son of Elysium, not Mullingar. Any previous treaty between our nations was made void in my Declaration of War!" No more would she tremble before this man. They would win against this madness.

"Void?! No one steps out of a treaty with me! No one!" He took several steps closer, enough that she could see the wrinkles at the corners of his eyes, deepened versions of Zayn's.

"I would parley now." Kalysta fought to make her voice even again. Riling him could turn this meeting to blows before she was ready. She needed him complacent enough to approach.

"Parley?" His barking laugh rang out. "Oh, child, how naïve you are. You wish to parley now that the whole of Asmye is on its way to crush your paltry country into oblivion? Oh no, Princess. The time for treaties and parleys ended with my son's life!"

His anger was mounting.

"Brother, wait," Adrian urged, stepping forward. He put his hand on Murdoch's shoulder and whispered earnestly in his ear.

Though Kalysta couldn't hear what he was saying, Adrian seemed to be trying to sway the Mad King toward parley.

Murdoch's face grew more and more caustic. "There will be no parley!" he finally snarled. He addressed her again. "No parley! No truce! I will see you dead under my sword before I make any kind of pact with a brazen chit who has forgotten her standing with men! I'll be sure to remind you of that standing before I'm done with you!" He bared his teeth and his hand went to his sword.

"Brother, please," Adrian hissed, gripping Murdoch's sword arm and pulling at him.

"Coward!" Murdoch spat at him, wrenching his arm away and rounding on Adrian. "You would see us bow down to this Elysian bitch and her litter of deplorable rulers just to stop a bit of bloodshed?"

"Please!" Adrian rasped, no longer quiet. "Listen to reason! Sparing lives isn't a coward's choice! Please!" He tried to reach out again, but Murdoch slapped his hand away and backhanded him with such force that Adrian was knocked to the ground.

"Unhand me, craven!" Murdoch roared. His movements were an awful reminder of Niall, their presences identical, ferocious in looming and expansive anger.

Adrian scrabbled back, touching his jaw where blood was already pouring freely from a wound that was no doubt the product of Murdoch's signet ring. "Please, brother, don't do this."

His manner was an unwelcome reminder of when Zayn had pled before Niall. She had a feeling this confrontation would end in the same way, brother turning on brother.

Sure enough, Murdoch drew his sword, turning his back to Kalysta's group as he bore down on his retreating brother.

"No brother of mine would crawl like a worm!" he screamed. "And no brother of mine would question my authority so openly! How dare you!"

Adrian continued shuffling backward before finally gaining his footing and holding his hands out passively. "No! Murdoch plea-don't-don't do this!" he snapped, his forceful tone at odds with the fealty in his stance.

"Would you have me unmanned?" Murdoch's voice was venomously quiet now, though still audible. "Perhaps you want my throne? You would weaken me and see me dethroned in the same instant!" He advanced further, holding his sword aloft. "You're just like my bastard!"

Kalysta couldn't stand it any longer. She motioned quickly. "Varale, end this madness before he kills Adrian!"

That was all that was needed. There was a soft ripping sound as Varale shed her outer skirt and sprinted forward. Kalysta's guards raised their loaded bows to give her cover in her attack. Her knife was unsheathed and she was on Murdoch before he had time to react to the sound of her footsteps. The attack was swift. The death was not.

Varale gripped his hair and wrenched his head over to the side with her free hand, using the increased exposure to slice deep into the muscle of the neck, though the toxin in the blade didn't require it. She was definitely a more accomplished assassin than Kalysta.

Murdoch cried out, dropping his sword and Varale took the opportunity to wrap her arm around his neck and, making a wrenching motion, drag him to the ground.

"The next slice will spill all your blood," she hissed at him in warning, kneeling behind his head and holding the blade to the front of his throat. "Drop your weapons!" she called to the Mullingan guards and Adrian.

They were struck dumb by the abrupt circumstances, but swords thudded to the ground followed by daggers and bows and quivers.

There was a beat of dead quiet.

"Let's stay calm," Adrian breathed, finally finding his voice. "There's no reason to be hasty."

"What have you done, bitch?" Murdoch gasped. He coughed and spat. "W-what-did-." He tried to sit up, but his muscles wouldn't allow it. His body had begun quivering, not violently, but enough to indicate that something was incredibly wrong.

His coughing turned to choking and it was with this cue that Varale retreated back behind Thomas, under the protection of Kalysta's guards.

Murdoch turned over, but that was the only movement he was able to manage. Copious amounts of saliva and blood poured from his open mouth to the ground. His body twitched more furiously now.

"Brother!" Adrian screamed. He lurched forward and fell to his knees next to Murdoch, disregarding the weapons trained on him. "Murodch!" His concern was evident, but he didn't touch him.

Murdoch spasmed for another few moments before his body slumped and his gagging, gasping breaths stopped.

The stillness was the calm before another storm.

The next second, the Mullingan guards were stooping to pick up their weapons.

"Stop!" Adrian shrieked from where he knelt, stopping a bloodblath. He breathed heavily, obviously conflicted. "Stop! No more." He reached down carefully and turned Murdoch's body over.

Kalysta focused on Adrian's face so she wouldn't have to see Murdoch's death pall.

"Poison? Bloody poison?" Adrian's face twisted in savage anger and he spat toward them. Anger dissolved into heart-wrenching grief. Sobs wracked his body as tears streaked the dirt on his face.

"Why?" he croaked next, placing his palms on his knees and gripping tightly. He looked up to Kalysta, his eyes wide and grief-stricken. "Why have you done this?"

"We did what was necessary," Kalysta answered, but the words sounded hollow and inadequate, even to her ears. "He was never going to stop. He proved it here."

"Poison?" he repeated, his voice a hiss. "You had to use poison? You foul, conniving-"

"We understand mourning, but hold your ire," Thomas cut in harshly.

"I don't doubt he would have gone to worse lengths than poison to gain my son." Kalysta tried to keep her voice careful. "Would you rather his madness had continued to ruin yet more lives?" The look on his face was so bereft that Kalysta couldn't help the swell of her own sorrow. All the pain and mixed regret from the past year welled as tears in her own eyes. She knew better than most that even the death of a horrible man made the heart heavy.

"You've taken them all," Adrian sobbed, "my son, my nephew, now my brother. You've taken them all away from me." His agony consumed him before his face contorted further into a sneer. "Am I next? Have you thrown my lot in with theirs? How much time do I have to wait before I feel your knife in the dark?"

The congenial man she'd met in Mullingar was gone. He stared at her as if she were the most horrible of people. She couldn't fault him. She truly was the one to blame for the deaths of most of his family. "Your lot is your own," she said quietly, barely able to control her voice. "As far as can be seen, you have not your brother's madness, nor your nephew's brutality, nor yet your son's capacity for apathetic destruction. The line of succession falls to you, so your lot is in your hands."

"A pretty speech to cover the fact that I will rule by your sufferance," he snapped.

"Are any of us more than that?" Thomas interjected sharply. "We rule at the allowance of our people. If we are found to rule poorly then our people depose us and exalt a better leader. In the event that they do not, and the disarray of poor leadership affects the other nations, then those other nations can, and should, intervene. We are all to blame for not putting an end to the overflow of Mullingar's decay sooner."

Adrian stared at him during this speech, but didn't answer for a time. He looked back down at Murdoch and his jaw clenched. "I will right the wrongs my brother committed," he croaked. "I will answer for the grievances he has caused."

"We will need your presence to form a new treaty then," Kalysta continued cautiously. "I don't think the current one will suffice any longer."

"I will right wrongs, but know this: I will not bankrupt my people, nor will I allow them to suffer the humiliation that Elysium faced following the Five-Year War." Adrian returned his gaze to them, his eyes intent. "They've been through enough."

"We will discuss all of that at the proper time, but that time is not now." She sounded callous again, but any words of apology or sorrow would be empty to this new king. "We will meet here tomorrow to draft a cease-fire and then you will be allowed two months to mourn before we call for a conference of the nations for a formal treaty. The exact time and place will be determined and communicated to you. In that time you will turn back the Ubians. Whatever you've promised them is yours to fix. Go now. Establish your rule and be warned against following in your brother's footsteps."

Adrian rose to his feet and turned to his Mullingan soldiers.

"The King is dead. Long live King Adrian!" one called. The others echoed the same just seconds after him and all knelt to their new ruler.

Adrian squared his shoulders before addressing them. "You will carry him back with all the respect due a fallen leader! But do not touch him directly, lest the poison affect you as well."

They followed his orders, placing Murdoch's body on their shields and hoisting him up.

Adrian turned one last time to take in Kalysta's group. His eyes were dry now. "I know why you did it," he breathed, "but that doesn't mean I'll thank you for it." Then he was leaving, walking tall at the front of the small Mullingan procession.

"It is done," Verale murmured

Kalysta felt a weight of the day's events as she watched Adrian leave. When they'd first met she had sensed a kindred spirit in him. That was all gone now, forever. "Yes, it is done," breathed. She lowered her head and clutched her temples.

"Were you expecting a different reaction from him?" Thomas asked wryly.

"Don't you dare make light of this," she snapped, looking up at him severely.

"I'm not." He put an arm on her shoulder. "Why do you weep?"

"It is done," she repeated. "So why do I still feel this burden, this sorrow?"

"You feel another's burden stemming from a less-than-perfect solution." Thomas wrapped her arm under his and turned her toward the carriage. "Time will lessen it. In the meantime, let's get you back to your Prince."


	98. Reconciliation

_February 13th, 1652_

Zayn's POV

He sighed as he stepped down from his horse and passed the reins to a stablehand. Almost without thought, he reached into his coat to touch the writ of pardon there, ready to wield it at anyone who looked at him crossways. Adrian had been very... generous in the writ, pledging that the courts of Mullingar forgave Zayn of all crimes, confirmed or rumored. It was a sign of how desperately Adrian wanted to cling to the remaining members of his family.

Returning here didn't feel like coming home, though. The _Partheos_ had always been more of a home than Mullingar ever had. But with that loss, Zayn couldn't ignore his dwindling relations any more than Adrian could. And Adrian deserved to have help from someone who wasn't looking to wheedle power away from him.

A Royal escort awaited him as he approached the castle, a group of clean-cut soldiers whose job was to provide formality during Royal affairs. He was entitled to this formality, always had been, but this was actually the first time he had been greeted upon his return to the castle as a Royal. Bastards didn't have to be acknowledged, let alone given their rights as part of the Royal family, but Adrian seemed to be changing that. Zayn almost didn't know what to do as they escorted him through the corridors with all the proper fanfare.

His group passed many nobles as they walked. The nobles' reactions to his arrival surprised him. Sure, the majority of Mullingar's elite still looked at him as if he were the refuse from the streets molded into a person, but still others looked at him with interest, confusion, fear and optimism. The difference was palpable.

The differences in the castle were never more apparent than when he finally reached the throne room. No sooner had he been introduced and stepped into the room then Adrian was rushing forward and pulling him into a hug, his arms clasped tight.

Zayn was dumbfounded. Shared blood had never stopped his family from avoiding physical contact with him; the concept of "muck-skin" was too deeply ingrained.

Now, his uncle was fully embracing him and all Zayn could do was stand stiff and unyielding.

"Welcome back," Adrian greeted, releasing him. "Come in, please. We have a lot to talk about."

Perhaps there was a place for him here after all.

\--- --- --- --- --- --- --- ---

Kalysta's POV

If it was over, why didn't she feel peace? The Mad King was gone. Finley was safe. She was home. But though her bed was soft and plush it might as well have been made of rocks for how comfortable she felt. And it wasn't as if she got much sleep, with Finley's cries to be fed. One would think she would snap up any chance at rest, but here she was, tossing and turning.

Eventually she gave up, climbing out from under the covers and donning her heavy robe against the frigid air. She stoked the fire once more in an effort to return some heat to the room. There was no reason to be both sleepless and cold.

"Come here," she whispered, going over to the crib and lifting Finley. He fussed for a moment, but calmed as she settled him in her arms and swayed back and forth. His sleight weight was comforting, for it made her feel secure, and she took a deep breath to calm herself further.

"I can't sleep and it's not even your fault," she murmured. Delia said it was good to talk to a babe even if they couldn't understand the words. "What's on my mind, Finn? I can't even get to sleep enough to have my usual nightmares." She continued, ruminating mostly nonsense.

After a time of contemplation, she gained a better idea of what was plaguing her; it was a sense of... expectation, as if there was something hanging over her, waiting to happen. It wasn't dread, for she knew that well after being dogged by it for so long. No, it was simply expectation, as if the world was still holding its breath.

It was Zayn. It had to be. She didn't feel that their relationship had ended exactly. There was too much that was still unsaid. Yet, how could that be? Wasn't silence its own form of communication? Why couldn't she simply sever this tie to him?

She set Finley carefully back in his crib and went to one of her clothing chests. Perhaps if she rid herself of the physical object she was still holding on to, then her heart would follow and she would have the peace she sought.

She reached deep into the chest and pulled out the flask, that incredible symbol of his affection. The thought of getting rid of it was both painful and relieving. Even now the sight of it brought a multitude of emotions and memories. He'd left it with her so that she wouldn't feel alone. That was what he'd said, but his leaving had never made her feel so lonely. Things were different now that she had Finley. She couldn't afford to carry this expectation anymore.

The flask wasn't hers to dispose of, but neither was it hers to keep. She would let go of the flask and hope that her heart followed suit.

_February 19th, 1652_

Zayn's POV

"I'm glad to see that Sizwe and the Asmyans have taken the news of ceasefire well." Zayn broached the subject carefully as they sat at their small dining table.

"Yes, I foresaw a bigger argument," Adrian sighed, shaking his head. He took a bite of the cured meat before continuing. "As long as we let them land in our ports and trade then they're fine. Sizwe said he'll be bringing negotiators back to discuss the possibility of having a colony here in Mullingar."

"Do you think that's a good idea?"

"Do I have a choice?"

Zayn didn't answer. Nothing he said would make his uncle feel better. Adrian was doing his best with the worst of situations, trying to make good on the promises of a dead king.

"This was sent for you, by the way," Adrian said, changing the subject. He pulled an oddly-shaped paper-wrapped package from his jacket and held it out. "It arrived earlier today. I just remembered it."

Zayn took it and undid the sinew band, letting the paper wrappings fall open. It wasn't anything he could have foreseen: his mother's flask. His heartbeat felt heavier, as if his chest would burst. He couldn't tell what emotion was prompting it, despair or hope. Kalysta had sent another letter with the flask. He didn't hesitate to rip open the envelope this time. There was no way he would miss out on reading this letter. He took a deep breath.

_~Zayn,_

_I want to begin by apologizing. By now you know the hand I played in your father's death. Hayden, Niall, Murdoch, dead at my behest if not by my hand. I am sorry, sorrier than I can put in words, for the pain that I've caused you and the pain that I've caused Adrian, though I doubt he would ever accept the apology. And I deserve it if you won't accept it either, but I beg your forgiveness anyway. No matter your decision, I will pay the consequences for my actions._

_You didn't respond to the letter I sent before your father's death, and I think it is safe to assume that your desire to communicate has not grown since. Just know that I hold dear the memories our time together._

_I have seen your capacity for love, Zayn, and I am sure that you will meet someone else worthy of giving your heart. Whoever it is deserves to have this piece of your past that holds such importance to you. I desire all the happiness for you and whoever you find yourself with._

_Kalysta~_

Hope. It was hope that made his heart continue beating now. "By the blood of the gods," he breathed.

"Is something wrong?" Adrian asked, looking up at him. "Should I not have delivered that?"

"I-It's fine," Zayn admitted. "I'm fine. But I-I can't stay, Adrian, I'm sorry. I wish I could, but I just can't"

"Whatever are you talking about?" The hurt in Adrian's eyes was clear.

But there was a fire in his chest, a warmth, a passion that Zayn thought had long since extinguished. After so long apart, all Kalysta had were words of sorrow, forgiveness, and memories cherished, not words of anger or hate. And he couldn't find a mote of anger toward her either. All that he had room for was hope, though he believed his hope to be abandoned.

"It's not fair of me to leave now," he conceded, "I know that, but there's something I need to take care of. Perhaps... perhaps I'll be back, but I have to find out..." He drifted off, unsure how to even explain himself, and knowing he wasn't making any sense.

"What are you trying to say?" Adrian prompted. "Going? Where? Who was that message from?"

It took a moment for Zayn to work up a response. "I can't stay here without knowing," he said, trying his best to verbalize what was racing through his mind. "I have to go to Elysium." Adrian's grimace was predictable. "Yes, Elysium. I have to go and... I need your blessing."

_February 22nd, 1652_

Kalysta's POV

Her birthday had passed almost without mark, at her charge. It was wrong to celebrate something so common when the entire continent was still in mourning over the lives lost in the War, an event simply being called the Dalitrise War. The only developments worthy of note after the ceasefire were her coronation and Thomas' departure, just over two weeks after the death of Murdoch.

Though her father's crooked dealings still weren't common knowledge for the populace, the council was all in agreement that he shouldn't be allowed to continue ruling. Kalysta had essentially been in charge ever since that reveal, but the council approached her several days after her birthday. They needed to make her rule official.

Her father was in disgrace, clear and simple. By some miracle they weren't laying that disgrace before her as well. Jonathan had the forethought to realize that he wouldn't have support from anyone any longer, but when the subject of her taking the throne was broached he was still furious. That fury continued until the moment he took the crown from his head and set it on hers, in a symbolic gesture that was usually performed when a very old King passed it on before his death. Kalysta was the youngest Elysian ruler to be crowned with surviving parents.

The crowd had kneeled and when Jonathan joined them, his face contorted with pain staring at her, as if he were truly coming to grips with the effects of his actions. It was too late for that, though. Someday, maybe, they would reestablish their relationship, but she wouldn't hold her breath. He hadn't even come to see his grandson yet. Time would tell.

Thomas left shortly after and Kalysta was saddened more by this than she had expected.

"You can't stay longer?" she asked him as they stood in the courtyard next to his horse. "Our army is growing and continuing training, but I could use your help, truly."

"Come off it, Princess," he had scoffed at her. "You'll be glad to be rid of me, admit it."

Without pregnancy moodswings, Kalysta was able to control her emotions more readily, but the urge to cry was still present. Even though she would see him soon at the Treaty Conference, it wasn't the same. He had his own country to run, she knew, but she would miss his caustic humor and ability to cut through the political flowerings of her council and nobles. 

"In your absence who will I have to insult my country and people regularly?"

"I'll send it in a letter." He gave her one of his rare genuine smiles, one without a trace of mockery or cynicism. "You'll do well, Princess. If nothing else could have been gained from this War, we've at least improved relations for our countries. Perhaps I'll come visit, when I can stomach the thought of this place again."

His mockery was back full force, but she knew it lacked sincerity. She inclined her head barely in acknowledgement. "If some poor horse manages to carry your pompous head back here, I'll pretend to welcome you." She couldn't help but respond in kind.

"Watch yourself," he whispered in real warning, bending at the waist to kiss her hand in parting. "Even with this peace, nothing is assured. I can't promise I'll come running every time you need help, but if you ask for it I'll do my best. By your leave, oh Queen, I depart." He swung up into the saddle, settled, and nudged his horse to trot out the main gate, raising his hand in a final farewell.

Now it fell to Kalysta to prepare her people and the council for the Treaty Conference and the developments it would bring. The couriers were already sent out to each of the other rulers, calling them to meet at Liam's palace in Wolvecaster on the 5th of April, the most central location. They all needed to be present. Kalysta was determined that this treaty be one that benefited them all.

The third morning after her coronation brought something to upset her carefully laid plans and intentions.

She was just readying to leave her quarters for the throne room and the hearing of petitions when a messenger stopped her preparations.

"There's a Mullingan delegation approaching," the messenger announced, "led by the former Ambassador, Sir Malik."

Kalysta couldn't think. "What?" she asked idiotically. "What did you say?"

"Sir Malik? The former Ambassador from Mullingar? He is approaching the castle with a small delegation. How would you like to receive them?"

It was several moments before Kalysta could formulate a response. "Settle them into quarters," she finally said. "Tell Sir Malik I will see him in the throne room. Have Andrew remove the petitioners and apologize for the short notice. I will take the petitions tomorrow."

The messenger bowed and left.

"Milady," Delia breathed. "Why is he here?"

"I don't know." Kalysta's hands shook as she passed Finley to the other woman. "I don't know. By the gods, I don't know."

\--- --- --- ---

She was able to be seated in the throne room, flanked by two guards, before Zayn arrived and she used the time to collect her wits as much as she was able. What was he doing here? After all this time he decided to come back? What purpose did this serve? Was he here in an official capacity? If so, couldn't Adrian have sent someone else?

"Sir Zayn Malik of Mullingar, requesting an audience of Her Highness, Queen Kalysta of Elysium," Andrew announced.

"The Crown recognizes Sir Malik," Kalysta said formally, glad that her voice was steady. Her hands were shaking again, but she gripped the arms of the throne tightly to stop them. Perhaps her stiff posture would be taken as regal instead of fearful.

He stepped in and she couldn't help her quick inhalation, though it wouldn't be audible to him, all the way across the room.

He stood tall and proud as he approached the throne and it was obvious that he had regained all the girth lost after his close brush with death. His clothing was impeccable, from polished black boots to neck scarf. She knew the purpose of the latter. The beard she had so loved on him was well-trimmed and perfectly accenting the depth of his cheekbones and his eyes were as large and captivating as she remembered. Too well could she remember drowning in their depths.

"Sir Malik," she greeted, still miraculously keeping her voice steady, "welcome back to Elysium. To what do we owe this visit? I had the understanding that all negotiations would be handled at the Treaty Conference to come."

"Thank you, Your Highness," he replied just as formally, bowing carefully before saying anything further. "I am here in an unofficial capacity, though I have His Majesty King Adrian's blessing for my visit."

"Very well, Sir Malik." Here in an unofficial capacity? "Speak your business."

He hesitated. "With the informal nature of my visit, I would humbly ask that this conversation be in an informal place as well."

Kalysta took a deep breath. What was he playing at? They didn't have the luxury of sneaking to talk in some private room.

She stood and stepped down from the dais. "I believe a stroll through the garden should fit the moniker of "informal". Are you agreeable to such?" It didn't matter that the garden would be dead and frozen over in the cold.

"Yes, yes of course."

With a motion to her guards, a large coat was fetched for her. She gestured for Zayn to walk beside her and the guards to follow several paces behind.

She didn't realize it was possible to wrestle with walking and breathing at the same time, but the feat seemed impossible as they moved to the garden. It would be worse than embarrassing were she to trip in front of him. Luckily, he didn't speak, so she didn't have to work through walking and talking while her heart beat at such an unhealthy rate.

Upon reaching the garden, Kalysta motioned the guards back to the entrance. She stepped to one of the benches and sat, fixing her gaze on Zayn. He stayed standing.

"What are you doing here?" she asked simply, throwing out formality and getting straight to the point. It was just the two of them now.

Zayn stared avidly at her face, as if he'd never seen her before. He took too long to respond. "What am I doing in Elysium?"

"No, what are you doing in my garden?" she said sarcastically. Perhaps she really had spent too much time with Thomas. "Yes, Elysium. Why are you in Elysium?"

Another beat of silence. "I'm a former ambassador," Zayn offered, but he wouldn't meet her eyes now. "Is it so strange that I should visit prior to the impending Treaty Conference?"

She scoffed at this excuse. "You said this was unofficial and it's to my knowledge that Adrian will be bringing a newly appointed Ambassador to the Conference." Talking was good. She was regaining her wits and she wasn't going to let him talk her into circles. He could try to bandy words all he liked, but she needed to get to the heart of this matter. "I'll ask again. Why are you here, Sir Malik?"

Silence, but for the cold breeze rattling the branches of the trees.

He took a deep breath. "I-I received your letter with my mother's flask." His eyes met hers in an almost tentative manner, as if he were unsure how she would behave.

This matter was supposed to be over. She'd sealed up her feelings with that letter. Or she thought she had. "Yes, but from what I remember there was nothing in that letter that suggested you should visit." She felt cold saying the words, and knew she sounded it too.

"I do want to communicate," he pressed, taking a step closer.

"I beg your pardon?"

"I want to communicate." He took further steps until he was right in front of her. "Your first letter sank with the _Partheos_ before I had read it."

Kalysta raised her eyebrows dispassionately. "You ignored my letter long enough that it sank on your ship months after it was delivered?"

"I'm sorry." His voice was pleading.

"You couldn't have simply sent a note in apology for ignoring it, then? Why are you here?" She'd wanted this to stay closed off, but he was reopening all the old wounds and sorrows of his departure and silence.

"I did ignore it," Zayn admitted earnestly. "I-I was a coward. So much had happened between us, and I didn't handle it correctly, and I ran off, and I wasn't sure how you would react to my behavior, so I avoided reading it. I-I thought perhaps that if I didn't read it then I could escape your anger. It was foolish, and I regret it immensely, more than I can tell you."

At another time, Kalysta would have laughed at the sheer inanity of the situation. She was getting to hear all that she'd desired to hear months ago. She wished she could simply laugh, brush off what had happened, and welcome him with open arms, but she couldn't. That simple "another time" was gone.

"Do you want to know exactly what that letter said?" she asked quietly.

"You remember the precise wording of something you wrote so far in the past?"

"It wasn't a long missive."

"Then, yes, please."

"It simply read _'All is forgiven. Please just come back to me.'_ " Her voice cracked on the last two words, betraying just how much she'd wanted, needed, his response and how much it had hurt when that response never came.

Zayn braced himself against a tree trunk, as if he'd lost his balance, and covered his mouth with his other hand, apparently struck with the enormity of their tragedy. "I'm sorry," he whispered, dropping his hand from his face, "so very sorry. Kalysta, I was such a fool. Please, please forgive me now. Nothing I can say is adequate at this point, but I beg of you-"

"I forgive you," she interrupted. It was true. She'd forgiven him quite some time ago. There had been too much pain for her to hold on to anger.

"You do?"

"Yes."

"Oh, thank you," he cried. "I can't thank you enough." He took another step closer and held arms outstretched.

She put up her hand, warding him off.

"Kalysta, what's wrong?" He stopped, his arms beckoning.

She stared at him, trying to remind herself why she'd made this decision. It was difficult to seem tough and aloof when he was standing in front of her, his very stance begging to accept her.

"I've forgiven you, but that doesn't mean we'll just pick up where things left off." The words were calm and straightforward, opposite the tumult of her emotions.

"Well, I-I wasn't assuming that," he lied, his face contradicting his statement as he crossed his empty arms.

"Have you forgiven me?" Kalysta could barely manage the words. The subject wasn't one she brought up willingly.

"What do you mean?"

"I'm the reason that Adrian and his sons are your remaining few relatives. We can't ignore that." It stung, saying those words. She had been sure of the steps she'd taken at the time, but now, before him, she couldn't see herself as anything other than the slayer of his kin. He knew what she had done. "How does that not bother you?" Her once strong voice now quavered with every sentence.

"It did bother me," Zayn allowed, "at first." He stared at her intently and scratched at his beard a bit. "There's nothing that can be changed, though. You did what you thought was necessary and I... I can't fault you for protecting yourself, and your people. It's in the past. Does it bother you, their deaths, the actions you took to protect your country?"

"Of course it does," she sobbed. "How can you ask that? I s-still have nightmares." She rubbed her eyes to avoid looking at him.

He sighed and seated himself on the bench next to her, careful to keep distance between their bodies. "I ask that so you'll realize a truth about yourself. Their deaths bother you, though you did what you thought was best. You didn't do it to gain power or wealth or land. You're not a cold-hearted killer. If there was any chance you were, I wouldn't forgive you, and I wouldn't be here. However, I have forgiven you, and I am here."

The urge to cry was almost overwhelming. At the same time, she felt another weight lifted from her. Here he was getting to the depth of her insecurities and fears, calming them, as if no time had passed at all.

It some time before she could speak without her voice betraying the weakness she felt. He gave her that time.

"We still can't just pick up where we left off," though her heart yearned for it.

"I'm not saying we... hop into bed," Zayn scoffed, though he still sounded too affronted to be giving the whole truth, "but can you really say that there's nothing between us? Are you willing to give up all that we went through together? Do you remember what I said when we were in Wolvecaster? It still stands. To go to another now would be searching for a dim mockery of what it is to be with you."

She had to stop this. If he kept talking he would tear apart every stitch of resolve she'd created to put herself back together after he'd left. Hearing these words now hurt almost as much as his abrupt departure had.

"I've got a good life, Zayn," she plead, looking at her hands clasped in front of her. "I'm Queen, I have a son that I love with my whole being, and I don't need a man to feel fulfilled in that life." The words seemed harsh, but he needed to hear the truth. "We've been apart for so long. I never thought I would see you again. And I understand entirely why you left. But we can't get that time back and you can't expect to come here into my good life so abruptly, thinking that I'm just automatically going to make room for you. That's not how this works. I have an entire existence built now that doesn't include you and I can't promise you anything except perhaps a friendship." She chose her words carefully. "I have more pressing matters to consider than the way we feel. My son is the most important person to me and I'm not going to let people around him that I can't be sure of. Right now, I can't be sure of you." She almost choked up at the sentence and the further bowing of his shoulders meant he was similarly afflicted. "I'm sorry," she finished.

"Don't be." His voice was a whisper. He sat completely still, contemplating something before saying, "I know much has changed and that we need to build back what was lost. I know that." He stood to face her, wearing a grim smile, and carefully reached out to clasp her hand. Just as carefully, he raised it to press a soft kiss to her wrist. "I'm sorry I was foolish enough to let it go. Perhaps you'll allow me time to-to prove myself once more."

She put a lid on her emotions, keeping her body in total control. Her heart ached for a more intimate embrace. He was pouring his heart out to her, but she knew she'd spoken true. She would test this out. Her hands didn't shake anymore.

"Thank you for your understanding," she said quietly, gathering her skirts and standing. "You're welcome to stay in the guest quarters as long as you wish." The formality was back, of necessity. She needed to regain some distance. "And please consider joining us for evening meal. We have a week of feasts after a coronation."

"I will," he nodded. "Thank you."

A slight bowing of her head and she left.

She barely made it back to her rooms before the tears fell fast.

"Milady!" Delia said, hurrying forward as Kalysta closed the door behind her. "What happened? Oh my, what has he done this time? I thought we were done with tears for that man." She turned Finley in her arms, holding him out to Kalysta. "Come, Mister Finn, cheer up your mother."

Kalysta took him carefully, breathing deeply to stop her tears. "It's not really a big deal, Delia," she assured her. "I just wasn't expecting what he had to say."

"Was he a gentleman? I'll have Bill cuff him good if he wasn't."

This made Kalysta laugh. "Yes, of course he was a gentleman. He just... I thought this had been put aside. Our conversation stirred up old feelings and he expressed that he wants to... well, actually he never specified what he intends to do," she laughed, considering it. She sat in a chair and held Finley to her breast so he could feed.

"I'm not sure what he hopes to accomplish," Delia said with censure. "You're a Queen. He can't just dandle you on his knee like he used to."

"Thank you for that." Kalysta rolled her eyes. "And for your future reference, he never dandled me on his knee."

"Oh yes, I forgot. You skipped right over that and rumpled sheets instead."

Was everyone going to keep throwing that in her face?

"Well, he's been informed that I've got no room in my life for him or any such activities," Kalysta said primly. That tone didn't last long though. "I don't know what he intends, Delia, not for sure."

"If he's worth his salt then he'll win you back. He's no longer an ambassador so it's not as if he has anything but time."

"We'll see."

Zayn's POV

Hardened. No longer was she the blushing maid to tremble at his every touch. And he missed that. It wasn't entirely his doing, but she'd grown more severe, tougher in their time apart. She was still as capable, passionate, and achingly beautiful, but something had changed.

He would make it his goal to bring that softness back in her, both for his sake and for the child's. No matter what she said about having no room in her life for a man, he wouldn't let his nephew be raised fatherless. He wasn't a particularly patient man, but he would exercise what little patience he had for this cause, for her, for her son.


	99. Accept Joy

Kalysta's POV

Kalysta had a difficult time keeping face with Zayn around. He sat with them at the Royal table at the feast and she felt likely to go mad at his proximity, though he wasn't sitting directly next to her. The entire group of council members had known him as just Ambassador Zayn. Now that he was no longer ill or carrying messages, they were eager to learn more about the man who had played such a crucial role in the organization of the resistance. And of course, he held himself with poise, humor, and grace in the face of their many questions.

The days wore on and those times in public were the most troublesome, for she had to pretend that his eyes on her didn't make her heart stutter or that his laughter didn't captivate her. He was truly charismatic, warm, and intelligent, as she'd always known, but now the rest of the world got to see it too. In a way, she lamented having to share the real Zayn with them all, for she had enjoyed having him to herself. That thought brought its own confusion, for he hadn't been "hers" in quite some time.

As was liable to happen, the council members asked her to invite Zayn to their pre-Treaty meetings, desperate as they were for insight into Mullingan and Bradian policies. She knew it was a good idea, for he was too valuable an asset to let alone and he was too desperate to please her to decline. It was the best thing to do, but she fought with the idea of having yet another part of her day taken over by him and the need to guard her feelings so strictly. At least when the two of them were relatively alone she didn't have to worry as much.

True to her word, she had created a time for them to spend together each day. Her morning ritual now was to get ready, feed Finley, walk with Zayn in the gardens, and then be about her usual Queenly duties. Those walks in the bitter cold were quickly some of her favorite times, despite the inevitable awkwardness. Their shared camaraderie was ever-present, but as they quickly found out, they couldn't be as free with their conversation as they used to be.

It was on one of these walks that she made the formal request for him to advise them on political matters. And he was more than happy to help, as she'd predicted.

"It will give me something to do," he added. "I feel quite... useless just staying as a guest here."

"With how much you used to travel I can imagine you feel restless as well." Her nonchalance fell short.

The look he gave her showed he saw right through her and the unasked question in her observation.

"Actually, I was referring more to having too much time on my hands," he corrected. "I'd been working on regaining my previous physical faculties completely while I was in Mullingar, by dueling with Mahir. When I mentioned coming here he declined the invitation to join me, saying that he needed to go see someone and "tie off some loose ends" as he put it. I haven't found anyone else to practice the sword with."

Kalysta laughed outright. "Yes, I'm sure he does have some loose ends."

He looked at her, confused. "Do you know something I don't? He hasn't mentioned anyone special to him when we've spoken."

She winced. "It's not my secret to tell." She felt an imbecile for blurting that out. Even if Zayn was privy to Thomas' predilections, it wasn't for her to share something so personal. "I apologize for bringing it up."

Zayn quirked an eyebrow, but didn't press it further.

"You don't talk about him," he ventured quietly, looking sideways at her as they continued walking.

Kalysta stiffened. "Him?"

"Finley."

This only made her slightly less anxious. "What do you want to hear about him?"

"I'm honestly not sure," he sighed. "I suppose I want to know how similar he is to N-Niall, but then, you didn't know Niall as a child." He stumbled over the words. "I don't know. Forget I mentioned it." Clearly he regretted bringing up such a raw topic.

"You're right," Kalysta whispered. "I didn't know him." She left a moment of silence. "Finley is... lovely. He is developing well, but mostly he cries and sleeps. He recognizes my voice more now. He smiles when he fills his diaper, but Delia assures me that every baby does this and it isn't a sign of a mischievous spirit." This produced a laugh from him. "Sometimes he focuses on my face when I speak and it's like he knows what I'm saying. When I hold him I feel like the most capable and incapable mother, all at once." She went quiet, realizing that she had shared more than she ever wanted.

"Thank you," he whispered.

She waited, expecting him to ask when he'd get to meet Finley, but the question never came. He truly was trying to give her space and prove himself. Something still held her back, though.

"I was sorry to learn of your ship sinking." Probably not the best change of subject. "I know how important she was to you."

"Yes, it was difficult," Zayn acknowledged. "I lost a few men with her as well, good sailors. Most were able to escape, or survive being captured, but several..." He drifted off.

The mood was plummeting.

"Tell me a funny story," Kalysta prompted, determined to steer away from somber topics.

Zayn pondered it for a second, then asked, "Did I ever tell you about the time that Mahir almost married a Bradian fisherman's daughter?"

Kalysta was laughing already. "No, but I can imagine how well that went. How did he manage to rope himself into that?"

"Well, see, Louis likes to pull pranks and Bradian mothers can be quite literal..."

\--- --- --- --- --- --- --- --- ---

A pattern emerged.

When it was time to part ways at the end of their walk, Kalysta would excuse herself and apologize for leaving. Zayn would reply "That's alright. I'll be here tomorrow and the next day. However long it takes." Then he would kiss her hand gently and let her depart.

No matter what he said, though, and no matter how much she enjoyed his company, there was still something holding her back. The expectation was still there, the baited breath of the world. She couldn't figure out what the expectation was this time.

One day, about two weeks after his arrival, they were walking and he made her laugh so hard that she had to clutch her stomach against the pain of uncontrolled mirth. It was a good kind of laughter, brought on by his story of Louis being chased off a nobleman's land after the noble learned just how acquainted Louis was with the man's daughter.

Kalysta had to take a seat on a bench to catch her breath and Zayn sat next to her, chuckling as well. When she met his gaze, his eyes were bright and his smile was full, but then his face morphed into a look of anticipation, of longing. He leaned in toward her, the assumption, but she moved away and stood, taking a deep breath.

"I'm sorry," he said quickly, standing as well. "I-I wasn't thinking clearly."

"It's quite alright," she whispered. "I'm just... I'm not quite ready for that."

"I understand." His assurance came fast. "It's fine. I shouldn't have done that."

"I'm sorry."

"There's nothing to apologize for. I'll be here," he nodded, "however long it takes."

A month passed and Kalysta still couldn't bring herself to introduce Zayn to Finley. Something still held her back. Delia took it upon herself to comment on it, too.

"Have you finally forgiven that poor man?" she asked.

"I already forgave him, Delia."

"Well, have you let him see Master Finn yet?"

"No."

"I hope you make up your mind before that man gives up on you."

"If he gives up then I was right not to introduce them. Even you've said that."

Delia sighed. "I just want to know why you're doing this."

"What is that supposed to mean?"

"Your pride has caused you some issues in the past."

"That's not it at all!" Kalysta protested.

"So you're not keeping him on the hook because he hurt you?"

"Of course not! I have my reasons!" Kalysta glared at her. "It's well within my rights to establish trust again! We hurt each other anyway! So no, this isn't about pride. It's about protecting myself and my son."

Delia held up her hands in placation. "I'm sorry I suggested it!"

"I don't know what I'm waiting for now, but he's promised to give me the time to figure it out."

Several days later, the pattern altered.

When Kalysta arrived for the council meeting, the general atmosphere was convivial. Zayn was talking with several of the councilors as if they were best friends, cracking jokes and laughing uproariously. It was the strangest sight after all they had been through.

"Alright," Duke Crothers said when everyone was seated. "Let's get to our business. Sir Malik, you mentioned previously that you had a proposition to bring before us. You have the first voice for this meeting."

"Thank you, Your Majesty," Zayn said, standing. "There's been discussion of the troops and cavalry and what all will be changed once this new treaty is finalized. However, I haven't heard mention of efforts to build a navy."

"We've considered it," another councilman replied, "but we don't have many skilled carpenters or boatmen to provide a standard."

Zayn smiled with satisfaction. He had expected this. "Then I whole-heartedly offer you my services."

"Are you qualified for that?" Duke Crothers questioned. "And available?"

"Not many of you have seen me sail, but ships are my strength." Zayn's look of satisfaction grew. "I know a great deal of the craft of their building, I am known for being an accomplished sailor, and I am more than available. I no longer have any duties as an ambassador and my uncle has requested that I make myself as useful as possible to the improving relationships of our nations. He knows of my intent in this regard and he supports my offer. View it as a sign of goodwill between the people of Mullingar and Elysium."

Kalysta took a deep, calming breath. She knew this wasn't Adrian's idea. But she also knew that Zayn spoke true. "Sir Malik is as accomplished a sailor as he purports. I have seen him safely navigate through storms, repair his ship of damages, and keep to a hasty schedule of travel. Whatever he knows of ships would be a welcome accessory in the building of our own fleet." When she looked at him, her heart almost stopped.

It was there again, that look in his eyes that spoke of shared camaraderie and nostalgia. He was displaying just how much this meant to him. His smile spoke of promises to come.

She couldn't breathe.

He looked away and the planning started. They would bring in ship carpenters from Mullingar and perhaps even Bradford to establish the best methods for building the best ships. Kalysta gave input where she could, but mostly she tried to keep breathing.

He was staying.

He was staying.

The contract they formed for his assistance required the building of at least five ships. That would take years. And years.

It was clear in his face when she accidentally met his gaze again. This was his promise to her as well.

He was staying.

Kalysta slipped away, not really sure why she felt like crying. She left the council chambers and went to the garden. He would come find her when they were finished. Until then, she could have a quiet moment to herself.

She stayed there for an hour as the sun set and the air chilled further. The few tears she was able to set free stung her cheeks. And she couldn't figure out why she was crying.

"I thought you might be out here again," he called, stepping out of the foliage. "Are you alright?"

Kalysta's chest felt tight again. "You're staying?"

He came over and sat at the other end of the bench, looking around him at the barren trees in the twilight. "This garden always reminds me of that time playing games with Everett and Elise," he said, not answering her question. "Did you know, Niall and I used to play hide-and-seek? It was his favorite game. I usually let him win. He had a troubled childhood, but his heart was kind at that age. He was ever the gracious loser, and always eager to prove himself. That was why I had such trouble playing that innocent game with the twins. You dragged me into it anyway, and I must say, I am the happier for it. It's a welcome reminder now of a less troubled time."

Kalysta simply looked at him and waited.

Zayn finally returned her gaze. "Yes, I'm staying. I told you I would stay."

She dropped her eyes to her hands clasped in her lap. "You've promised years of your life to this, at least."

"Yes."

"What if I never learn to trust you again?"

"Never is a strong word, but I would understand. And I would still be here."

That made her draw a sharp breath.

"I won't go back on my word, Kalysta," he whispered.

Silence.

"I-I'm afraid," she croaked finally. "Whenever we allowed ourselves this... whatever this is, something horrible happened. What if something horrible happens again? I can't bear any more pain, not where you're concerned."

He reached out, carefully, and placed his hand over hers. "Would you abandon joy for fear of pain that is assured?"

"What?"

"There is always going to be pain," he said earnestly. "I might say something that hurts you, you might say something that hurts me, the Ubians could come back in force, I could become ill, I could become old and die before you accept this." That brought a half a laugh from her. "There will always be something to fear, always be some pain that comes along. Are you willing to let go of what we have simply because you fear more pain?"

She couldn't think straight. "No-Yes? No. I'm..."

"Kalysta, look at me."

When she still avoided his gaze, he turned and grasped her chin, gently directing her to face him.

His eyes held.

"I'm right here," he whispered. "I'm begging you, don't give up on this. We have a chance. Take it. You can't escape pain, but you can accept joy. Please."

She burst into tears.

And when he pulled her into his arms she didn't resist. What was there to resist?

"It's alright," he whispered. "I'm here."

Tears upon tears.

She still didn't know why she cried. Perhaps it was mourning, perhaps it was joy, she couldn't be sure. What she could be sure of was Zayn. He held her close, warming her, though she hadn't realized the cold, and comforting her.

When she was cried out, he simply continued to hold her.

She pulled back a little so she could look him in the eye.

His lips were parted, the cloud of his breath reaching her. He didn't move.

"Yes," she whispered. "I'll accept the joy."

She saw his ear-splitting grin for a moment and then he was pulling her back into an embrace. He buried his face into her neck, murmuring his relief and happiness and resolve. He kissed her cheek and then along her chin before placing a relatively subdued kiss to her lips.

"Thank you," he breathed. "Oh, Kalysta."

She made sure the next kiss was not so subdued. It was her move and she wrapped her arms around his neck before kissing him soundly.

The feel of his lips was familiar and new and entrancing at the same time and felt like the virginal maid all over again, receiving her first kiss under the light of the moon. She lost herself in the kiss, disregarding the fact that they were in a very public and viewable place. Could she ever truly be discreet where he was concerned?

It didn't matter anymore. She wasn't sure how this would work out, but it would. It must.


	100. Fate's Reward

_March 24th, 1652_

"Adrian is at the border," Kalysta said, stepping out to join Zayn for their morning walk in the garden. "Do you know anything about that?"

"Actually, he did mention something to me. It must have slipped my mind. He expressed a desire to accompany you to the Treaty Conference. With the way things have turned out, he wished to bolster stronger relations with you before showing up to the meeting."

His tone was offhand, but Kalysta sensed there was something else going on. "He desires to accompany me? Bolster stronger relations? How are those two things even related?"

"He simply said that if I were here, he would wish to travel with us to the Treaty Conference," Zayn responded. "Are you going to allow him to come here? You're allowed to refuse, but I don't think it would set a good precedent."

Kalysta gave him an exasperated look. "I'll allow it, but I mean to get to the bottom of whatever he actually wants as soon as he gets here."

"That will be in a few short days, probably."

Kalysta sighed, but slipped her hand into his. "He used to like me, I think."

"Give him time," Zayn murmured. "He'll come around."

"Does he know of... whatever this is?"

"I told him my intentions before I left."

This made her laugh. "And what are your intentions, Sir Malik? Surely you don't mean to corrupt the newly crowned Queen of Elysium."

"No, I've already had that pleasure," he hummed appreciatively.

\--- --- --- --- --- --- --- ---

_March 27th, 1652_

King Adrian of Mullingar arrived well before Kalysta expected. It didn't help that she was dreading this. Facing him again was a feat she had hoped to put off until the Treaty Conference.

She had him brought to the throne room where she sat, surrounded by her guards, the council, her parents, and Zayn.

Adrian was announced and strode in immediately, full of a self-possession and assurance that he certainly hadn't had previously. His clothing was elegantly simple, a stark contrast from his deceased brother's way of dressing, and the crown on his head seemed to fit him more than it ever had Murdoch.

"Your Majesty," he greeted, bowing lower than was necessary. "I thank you for accepting me so graciously into your Royal City, particularly after the events of the last year."

"King Adrian, it is my hope that our meeting will be a sign of peace to come."

With the pleasantries out of the way, Zayn stepped forward to embrace his uncle, an action which surprised Kalysta. She hadn't realized they were so close. Following that, Zayn stayed next to his uncle. He whispered something in Adrian's ear and Adrian nodded quickly.

"Your Majesty, I have two reasons for appearing before you today," Adrian continued. "The first is to ask that I be allowed to accompany you for the trip to Wolvecaster. I believe we can establish mutually beneficial agreements on trade and border regions before we meet with the other nations."

Kalysta nodded. "I see the validity of such a request and it is granted. Your second reason?"

Adrian took a deep breath. "I will not evade the subject that our nations have been hostile in past years. It is common knowledge and something that I wish to rectify. Treaties and trade agreements are not adequate, in my opinion."

Where was he going with this?

"I was central in the organization of the first treaty between us," he continued, "however much of a failure it was. It was my prompting that moved my brother from a course of direct war, to the possibility of creating ties between our nations. I would endeavor to forge that possibility again, though it would be foolish to bind two rulers or heirs, as my brother attempted, when they have obligations to their own nations.

"Queen Kalysta, I propose a marriage that will benefit not only our nations, but Bradford as well. Zayn holds no ruling obligation to either Mullingar or Bradford, but has irrevocable ties to both. As such, your marriage to him would be of incalculable benefit to us all. In the event that you have children, there will be a permanent connection between our nations. Too long have we divided ourselves and squabbled. Instead, we could unite this continent with peaceful relations. Do you find this agreeable with your policies and laws?"

Kalysta's mouth gaped unattractively. It seemed a lifetime ago that she had entertained such notions as this. She was used to her nightmares coming to fruition, but her good dreams almost never made an appearance in reality.

She had to admit, this marriage made sense, politically.

She looked to her left and right at the councilors seated close by. There were nods of approval directed to her, though Duke Crothers gave her a searching look, as if verifying that she wanted this. He had been there for the entire first arranged marriage fiasco. Her eyes passed quickly over her father and landed on her mother. The look her mother gave her, quiet acceptance and love, was all Kalysta needed.

"I am inclined to accept the proposal, Your Majesty," she replied, her voice carefully controlled, "but what does Sir Malik have to say on this?" She just knew he had concocted this plan as well.

Zayn's mouth quirked as he held in his humor. He stepped forward, one foot on the stairs to the dais, and stopped.

"Princess," he began. "Kalysta. The idea of this union was always a fantasy of which it was easier to simply not speak. I will tell you now that I have wanted it for some time, since the day you let your mask down in front of me in Cheshire. I saw your passion, your resolve, and your abiding love for your people. Seeing all that, I couldn't help but fall in love with you. I've loved you every moment since then, even when my pride and stupidity got in the way. I've wished for this for so long and the troubles of our countries have finally stopping pulling us apart. For once, they are bringing us together. I make my promise to stand by you in everything, matters of state, matters of family, all of it. This I swear, in front of these gathered witnesses, and humbly ask for your hand in marriage." He bowed low, his heart bare for all to see, and awaited her answer.

Kalysta could hardly think for the joy coursing through her. She wanted this, more than anything she wanted this.

"Rise, Sir Malik," she said. "Your proposal is welcomed and accepted."

Pain and joy. The balances had finally swung in their favor. And it was past time that fate rewarded them for all they'd sacrificed.

**_~FINITE~_ **


	101. EPILOGUE

The little boy ran down the corridor as fast as his two-year-old legs could carry him. It wasn't fast enough, for he was swept off his feet and hugged close.

"Thought you could escape, eh?" Zayn growled at him with mock ferocity.

Finley laughed and squirmed in his arms, trying to get away.

"Nope," Zayn chuckled, holding him close. "There's no running for little Princes who don't finish their meals."

"Nooo Dad!"

"Come on, bub, let's go see your mum. I think she could use some company."

Finley stopped squirming at this idea and allowed himself to be carried.

They entered the room and Zayn set him down. Immediately, Finley ran over to the side of the bed that wasn't occupied and climbed on.

"Hello, sweetie, how are you?" Kalysta asked Finley from where she was reclined, patting the bed beside her. He was eager to join her, his bouncing energy making her laugh.

"This little guy ran off before dinner was over," Zayn said, walking over to join them and bending down to kiss her cheek.

"Zayn!" she protested. "He's supposed to be learning discipline, not leaving because he's bored!"

"Ach, dinner was the salmon with asparagus," he answered, making a face. "Can you really blame him?"

Kalysta gave him a withering look, but couldn't help the smile that crept up next. "No, I suppose not."

"How's the little one?" Zayn asked, sitting on the edge of the bed.

"I think Mama Gia is being overly cautious. It's fine. Feel for yourself," Kalysta sighed, grabbing his hand to put it to her stomach. "With how much kicking is going on, let's hope the babe swims as well as you do."


End file.
